For The Right Reason
by Alpha Cucumber
Summary: Kotor1 AU. FRevan never went to the Mandalorian Wars, or became a Darth. Very OOC. They're on Manaan. Now they need to get out of the ship. Why does that sound easier than it is? OC Alert!
1. You know what you do when you assume…

**Summary: **Kotor1 AU. In which Revan isn't evil, male, young, respectful or terribly energetic. The question isn't if she's powerful enough to stop her old friend Malak, but can she be bothered? LSFRevan X Carth

**Chapter One:** **You know what you do when you assume…**

When Carth Onasi staggered from the escape pod with a beautiful unconscious woman in his arms, he could think clearly enough to realise that things were not going to plan. By the time he had found an abandoned apartment and released his burden with a groan of relief, he knew that the plan had not just flown out the window, but was not even in the same solar system. Everything that needed to be done now would have to be either done on the spur of the moment, or predicted more or less accurately.

Carth Onasi hated being without a plan. So he dealt with the only thing he could think of at the time, and concentrated on healing his injured comrade. Not that there was much he could do. He wasn't a doctor, and neither did he have all that many medical supplies. By her clothing, however, he had concluded that she was a Jedi, and therefore was much tougher than the average human. Good thing, too. He was stranded on the apathetic overpopulated planet of Taris, which had just been put under Sith martial law and quarantined. He sure could use the help of a Jedi.

In the meantime, while his companion snored, or rather, slumbered away peacefully, he decided to take a walk around the place, try not to look like a tourist and try to get some information while maintaining a low profile. He thought he succeeded more than not, although the people there stared and insulted his sense of fashion.

He obtained new information about the terrain: it came in three levels, the Upper City, where he was, the Lower City, a place full of gangs and poor people, and the Undercity, where there was the undead. Luckily, Carth believed in distrusting everything he heard. If there were any other survivors, they had all crashed into the lower levels. Carth wished he could ascertain the fate of each and every one, but he had a mission. Not to mention an unconscious companion, to which he promptly hurried back to with offerings of food, all of which she declined by way of her inattention to external stimuli.

He spent a further two boring days scouting the Upper City and watching his friend whistle in her sleep. Just as he was about to sing his third rendition of '1000 Bottles of Ale on the Wall,' his attention was arrested by the woman who started to snort and hack.

He was beginning to think she was an epileptic when her eyes flashed open and she seemed to recognise him, albeit through one eye as she held her hand over her nose.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I was beginning to be…" Carth started.

"Siwenth!" she lisped angrily. "Bi head hurths. Amd by _doze!_"

"Um, miss…"

"Thut up!" Ah, he could understand that.

She had removed her hand from her face only to prod her nose with the tips of both fingers. Carth thought he saw her wince, but it was hard to tell with all the swelling.

"Bi doze is bwokem!" she announced crossly. Her eyes focussed on Carth. The slate grey orbs regarded him coldly. "Du shood have fiched it!" As he shrugged self-consciously, not wishing to tell her to speak more clearly, she sighed and pursed her lips. "Devermingd."

At first Carth thought he saw a fog gather before her nose – a second later he thought he was seeing things, and the next minute he saw that her small pert nose had straightened, and the swelling gone down.

"Well, that's better," she said in an accent like cut glass, "I was getting quite tired of that bemused expression of yours."

"I'm glad you're up. Do you remember me?" Carth offered.

"Of course I do. You're Carth Onasi, assigned by the Republic Fleet to be my…I mean, _our_ consultant. I do trust you have your memory unimpaired?"

"Pristine, Lady Jedi," he said, remembering protocol and repressing disrespectful feelings. Or trying to.

"Excellent. I am confident you have gathered intelligence while I have been indisposed. Please, enlighten me." With somewhat uncanny grace, seeing as she had been an unconscious invalid an hour ago, she swung her shapely legs over the side of her bunk and crossed her ankles, clasping her hands expectantly. She raised an eyebrow as Carth gathered his thoughts.

"Well, the plan facts are: we've crashed on Taris. The Endar Spire is a complete loss, there are no acknowledged living survivors other than us, and the entire planet is under Sith control. The Sith have also placed a quarantine on the entire planet, no doubt looking for 'the last hope of the Republic'."

"And how do we get off the planet?"

"I'm still working on that."

"You haven't made a plan to get off the planet yet?" her voice was incredulous. "What have you been doing all this time?"

"Taking care of you as you lay unconscious, Lady Jedi," Carth said, not bothering to hide the irony in his voice.

Again, her lips pursed in annoyance. "Well, we won't continue to be so sloppy now. This is my, er, our mission, and…"

"And what do you plan to do?" Carth questioned sourly. "You know nothing more of the situation than I've told you, and already you want to make the decisions? Not gonna happen, lady. I happen to like being alive."

"You are being insubordinate, Commander."

"And you are being ridiculous. Let's remember that we are allies, and we need to work together if we are going to survive this mess."

"Well said, Carth," she said, chastened. "You are right, I am not yet fit to command. What do you suggest?"

"I was assigned to you and your master. It was stressed that you were equally important."

"Yes," she said, trying not to allow a hint of resentment show in her response. "My master holds value as she has incalculable knowledge about Malak and his motivations. She was an acquaintance of him before the Mandalorian Wars. And I…" she paused, trying to think of a modest way of saying that really, everything depended on her.

"You, Bastila Shan?" Carth shrugged his shoulders and relieved her of self-examination. "You have that Battle Meditation thingy that gives the Republic an edge in a battle. Sure. You're valuable."

"We must find my master," Bastila mused. "She is very important."

"And we must do that without giving you up to the Sith," Carth reminded her.

"I am confident I can disguise myself adequately," Bastila said, combing her hair with her fingers. She pointed at Carth suddenly. "You, Commander? You must buy me some hair dye."

Carth choked on air. "What?"

"I can hardly do it myself. Something other than brown, I think?" she mused, holding one of her own locks before her eyes.

"I…oh, blast it, I'll just go," Carth growled, and went out.

**(&X&)**

Deep in a place where natural light never reached, a forlorn figure moaned and fingered her head. Her fingertips brushed against a coarse fabric – bandages. _Archaic nits, _she thought grumpily. _I bet they're not even kolto soaked – good thing I can heal myself or I might die from gangrene._ _And gangrene on my head…_

An electric shock pulsed through her neck just above her collar bone and almost rendered her unconscious. _What the hell? _she thought disjointedly, _are there live wires here? _When her muscles cooperated, she felt at her neck and found a thin metal collar pressed into her flesh. Very little information could be gathered from just the touch, and when she hesitantly tried to heal herself with the Force again, she received another, less severe shock.

With slightly shaking hands, she pressed the bandage over her eyes. Relieved that she felt no pain, and fairly confident that she hadn't been rendered blind, she rested back down against the ground and relaxed her muscles. She couldn't reach the Force, she couldn't see, and she wasn't about to stumble around blind and defenceless. Why not sleep?

**(&X&)**

"Carth," Bastila breathed, desperately trying to hold on to her composure, "what made you pick out a _blonde_ hair dye?"

"You said it shouldn't be brown," Carth said defensively. "I didn't think you wanted a pink dye, or try being a redhead."

Bastila screwed up her lips, trying not to say anything else. "Fine," she grunted.

"They do say blondes have more fun," Carth offered.

"Fun? Fun?! I am a Jedi, Carth!" Bastila ranted, and then clutched her head.

"Take it easy, there, Shan," Carth advised her uneasily, as she sank down on her bunk and whimpered. "You took a serious blow to the head, you need to be careful."

"It's nothing," Bastila whispered, "A tension headache." When she recovered, she found a plasteel bowl and filled it half full with water from the tap. After wetting her hair, she gingerly applied the contents of the hair dye to her scalp, kneading it into her roots with her fingers as per instructions.

To break the silence, Carth asked out of the blue, "So, what's she like, your master? I never saw her, she never went out of her room."

Surprised, Bastila's fingers stilled and she directed a quizzical glance at Carth, before working on her hair again. "Revan? She's…interesting. I mean, it's a great honour to be taught by her, and she is one of the most powerful Jedi."

"And what does she look like? It would be good if I had a description."

"Taller than average. Somewhere between our respective sizes. Blonde, light blue eyes. Middle aged – I think she's around your age, but she does look a bit younger. Solid build, tends to dress in apparel two sizes too large."

Carth paused for a moment of indignation that she referred to him as middle aged. When that passed, he asked, "And you don't have a holo of her? Some kind of picture?"

"Revan disapproves of her image being taken." A polite way of saying that if you tried to snap a picture of her, your camera device would suffer from a powerful Force Grip.

"And what can you tell me about her personally?" As Bastila gave him an outraged look, he qualified, "Quick tempered, or loves to garden, or what?"

"Revan has a viewpoint of things that is truly unique. She is one of the most learned Jedi in the Order, and if she were more traditional it is more than likely that she would already be a Council Member. She is…unimpressed by position or wealth, and takes delight in many simple things." There, that was all true, and inoffensive.

"Do you think she's still alive?" Carth asked soberly.

"I am sure of it," Bastila said positively, smoothing the dye over the ends of her hair, "She may not be the most athletic of us, or the most …proactive, but she has a way of surviving that is absolutely uncanny."

"Can you hone in on her position using the Force?"

Bastila huffed in annoyance. "Is that what you think the Force is?! Just some inner compass that states everything nice and clear in some internal screen? For your information, the Force is a highly complex…"

"I don't need the details," Carth interrupted, "I just need to know if you can do it."

"No, not in the way you mean," Bastila snapped. She sighed, and snapped the flexible cover over her hair. "I apologise for my tone, it's just I'm not used to being with people unlearned in the Force. There is so much…interference, you could call it, on Taris that I fear I would simply get lost. The living Force in every individual tends to blur my Force senses. We're going to have to find her using old fashioned detective methods."

"Great." Carth felt that his every feeling could be described by that word as voiced by his completely disgruntled tone.

"It shouldn't be too hard for you," Bastila tried to say persuasively, "After all, you worked as a police officer on Telos for a time, did you not?"

Carth froze, before levelling a hard look at her and asked calmly, "You read my file, eh?"

"Naturally," Bastila nodded, oblivious. "As you were to work with me, us, I needed to know your strengths and weaknesses."

"And what did you deduce?" he asked grimly.

Bastila's internal alert device finally went off. She looked at his face uncertainly, and compromised. "You are loyal. That is very important."

Carth grunted, leaving the apartment and clearly ending the conversation. She sighed softly, and removed her hair cover, in preparation for rinsing. Working with Carth was going to be very difficult if his file was correct in pinpointing his issues.

When Bastila was vigorously drying her hair with a spare piece of material Carth returned, and dropped a bag of unidentifiable but assumedly light contents at her feet. "Clothes," he said shortly, with an expressive gesture at her current attire. Bastila nodded at him and headed to the furthest corner as Carth stalwartly turned his back. After some minutes of awkward silence, Bastila cleared her throat. Carth turned around and appraised her critically.

As before, Bastila was a beauty. A striking, childlike face with pouty lips and big clear grey eyes framed by dark brown lashes that curled back from her eyes naturally, coupled with an athletic but pleasingly curved body, now partially hidden by the drab civilian wear he had procured for her. She still looked like a refined woman, but the ash blonde hair spilling into her eyes and over her shoulders gave the impression that she was of the courtesan class. All the better, he decided, for her disguise. At her feet laid the bloody and torn Jedi garments she had made famous on the Endar Spire. He allowed himself to smile wistfully in the memory of the crew members bandying bawdy observations about her in the mess hall. They were likely all gone now.

A light cough woke him up from his recollections. Bastila was staring back at him with slightly pink cheeks. He understood that he had prolonged his stare for too long. He shrugged his shoulders in his leather jacket and handed her a retractable quarterstaff.

"What is this…oh, very thoughtful of you. Of course, I can't carry my double bladed saber around, and this is the nearest thing to it without attracting attention. Well done."

Carth endured being commended like a schoolboy and eased his blasters in their holsters. He knew he looked suitably scruffy to be anything from a mercenary to a bodyguard, and would be practically invisible. He led the way to the apartment door and tried to prepare himself mentally. He hadn't exactly been favourably impressed with Jedi Padawan Bastila Shan. How was he going to be able to survive working with her?

**Reviews would be appreciated. My first story, you know.**


	2. Meeting The Locals

**Chapter Two:** **Meeting the Locals…**

Bastila lost some of her self confidence as she noticed the sinister armoured figures of Sith soldiers patrolling the Upper City walkway, before she gave herself a mental slap and straightened her shoulders.

"It's okay," Carth mumbled beside her without looking at her. "It takes some getting used to."

"I am merely tired," Bastila returned, disquieted that her unease had been so easily detected. "Do you know where our friend might be?"

"In the Lower Cities or Undercity, Stella," he replied, using the alias she had chosen a few minutes ago. "The Lower Cities have a gang war problem, and the Undercity is rarely visited, and is supposedly colonized by mythical monsters."

"What kind of mythical monsters?" Bastila asked, suppressing anxiety.

"Undead creatures. I have little more information than that, but I think we're going to need better protection than we're currently wearing. There's a store I've seen around here that can probably help us, though we're a bit short on credits."

"Exactly how many credits do we have?"

"Around two hundred."

"What on earth can we buy with that? Did you find any job advertisements in your reconnaissance? Do we have any liquefiable assets? Any friendly contacts?"

"No, Stella," Carth sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "We'll spend some of what we have, then we can scout around for opportunities. The local Cantina, for instance."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," approved Bastila curtly.

They proceeded to walk along the path. The buildings, all designed in an aesthetically pleasing arch silhouette, had once been tinted blue and silver but with the ravages of time and acid rain had been dulled and dirtied. Her nose twitched a little at the smell of hot duracrete and transparisteel, with a cocktail of colourless exhaust fumes for flavour. Her hearing was peppered with the whines of repulsorlift vehicles, hums of countless droids for countless purposes and snatches of unintelligible conversation from the locals, who were strange in their behaviour. Instead of seeming as if they had a purpose, the Tarisians aimlessly walked the paths, meeting sporadically and then turning back to their perambulations, like tame birds in a park.

"Here's the store," Carth said, breaking into her thoughts.

"Why, hello there," an effusive woman crooned from behind the shop counter, before slipping past it and appraising the pair with a friendly smile. "Welcome to my store! I'm Kebla Yurt, and I can attend to all your needs. Well, mostly."

"Mostly?" questioned Carth suspiciously, "What do you mean by that?"

"The Sith have confiscated all my heavy weapons, my ships and my swoop bikes," Kebla explained, still widely smiling, "but I still have the finest selection of new and used goods in this Upper City district."

"Wonderful," Bastila answered, "We'll browse, then."

"Take your time," grinned Kebla, who minced quickly behind the counter.

"We need to find you some kind of armour," Carth said quietly to Bastila.

"We don't wear armour, Carth. We wear robes," Bastila answered shortly.

"I know that, but if I'm going to keep you safe you need some sort of protection."

"_You _keep _me_ safe? Have you forgotten who the expert is here?"

"You have your talents, Stella, and I have mine," Carth retorted, "And you are going to wear some armour whether you like it or not!"

"Awww," sighed Kebla directly behind them, startling them. "It's nice to see a father so concerned for his daughter's safety. I tell you what – I'll give you a discount on a nice set of flexible armour for your girl and a second hand plated suit for you, okay? 175 credits. All right, 170 credits."

The silence that met her offer was broken by Bastila in a tone less steady than was her usual, giving her acceptance to the deal. Carth's face had frozen abruptly and he fought to keep it that way till he had civilly thanked Kebla and departed the store. Once outside, he shook his head wryly and mumbled to himself, "Which way to the Cantina? I need a drink in the worst way."

"Should I take that for an insult, Carth?" Bastila demanded curtly.

"I don't look old enough to be your father, do I?" Carth questioned.

"You do have a rather care-worn appearance," Bastila answered thoughtfully, "not to mention the fact of your insistence on protecting me. It's clearly aging you."

Carth glanced at her in his peripheral vision. Was she trying to make a joke? Bastila??

"On the other hand," Bastila said coolly, "I am eighteen years old, and you are thirty eight. It is a biological fact that you are old enough to have fathered me."

"You're eighteen?" Carth enquired, ignoring the rest of her statement. "That's a bit young, don't you think?"

"Our standards are different from yours, Carth," Bastila said disdainfully. "I have trained since I was six."

"Maybe you could use a drink, too," Carth mused, ignoring her glare.

**(&X&)**

Awaking after a time to the now familiar blackness, Revan yawned widely and arched her sore back. "Would it have killed you to put me on a mattress?" she complained to the unseen air. To her mild surprise, a low chuckle answered her.

"You are my prisoner," said a melodious male voice, "and I'll put you wherever I want."

"Okay, spooky disembodied voice-person," acknowledged Revan dryly, "but I am also your guest, and you should show some hospitality." As her stomach growled suddenly, she added, "that includes food, you know."

"I doubt you'll die from starvation soon," the voice jibed, adding, "Are all Jedi so 'well endowed'? No wonder the Sith are kicking your asses. They just can't miss."

Revan scowled and remained silent.

"Introductions are in order, I think," mused the man, "I am Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars."

"I am Jedi Revan. As my good friend Vrook would say, leaders deserve all our respect and courtesy." Her fingers curled into the universal insulting hand gesture.

"Jedi Revan, you have been fitted with an adapted neural disruptor. I'm actually surprised you can think clearly enough to make conversation. You certainly can't reach your Force, and any time your brain activity reaches a certain level you will be incapacitated with a non-lethal jolt of electricity. You are in my power."

"Whatever, rat-bastard," she pouted.

"And thanks for your lightsaber. I've wanted one for some time."

"You're welcome to it. Nothing more than a glorified glow stick, anyway."

Somewhat put out that his intimidation tactics had not worked as he had predicted, he pressed a button on his wrist. Revan was immediately rendered unconscious from another electrical shock. Twirling a metal cylinder in his fingers, he spoke to one of his lackeys.

"Provide her with water, and only water. Groom and clothe her as I ordered in two days, and prepare for transport at the appropriate time. After that, prepare the cell again. I have many ideas I find intriguing."

The next two days would be unendurably boring for Revan, who would certainly have gone mad if she hadn't found a release by singing songs from as many different planets and species as she could possibly remember. The Gamorrean battle chant one really cracked her up, because it worried her guard at first that she was having a fit, and then afterwards it made her really light headed and silly. It never occurred to her to be thankful that only Brejik had the manual device to her electrical collar.

**(&X&)**

"So, fresh meat, you wanna piece of me?" jibed an incompetent grey-haired duellist.

Bastila grimaced. That brought up a lovely picture of cannibalism. "I simply asked…"

"I'm Deadeye Duncan, the number five ranked duellist in this cantina! You must have seen me in the duelling chambers, right?"

"Once again, I wanted to know…"

"You know, the duelling chambers, two people in combat, loser gets carried out unconscious – it's the only reason this cantina stays in business."

Bastila huffed. "If you would only listen to me…"

Deadeye waved an arthritic hand at her. "Look, I'm the number five ranked duellist around here, I don't have time to explain all this. Go talk to the duel organizer, if you're interested. He's the Hutt in the corner."

"Thank you," she frowned at his retreating back, "though you could have mentioned it sooner if you'd only listened to what I wanted to ask!"

After an unenlightened talk with the Hutt, she made her way back to the table Carth was occupying, accompanied by a healthy glass of ale. She sat on the seat opposite, a frown on her face. "The duels need time to be set up, but I'm fairly confident either one of us could earn several hundred credits each before we were adequately challenged. I also have heard of a bounty office, but that appears to be located in the Lower City."

"And the Lower City can only be accessed by a lift guarded by a Sith soldier," Carth noted.

"I could try to persuade him with the Force," Bastila said wearily, "but I have no guarantee it would be successful, and if I should fail…"

"We'd be in trouble," Carth finished for her. They sat in silence for a moment, during which Carth swallowed some ale and seemed to relax. Bastila noticed this, and although part of her disapproved at this method of self-medication, the idea was strangely tempting to her. When she realised this, she stood up abruptly and prepared to leave the cantina.

"What?" Carth asked.

"We have work to do," she said curtly, "and getting inebriated is not one of our goals."

"Bastila, it's one drink. And I'd like to finish it."

"We have no time for drunken orgies, Carth."

Carth looked frustrated. "You're just not going to let me win anything, are you?"

Bastila turned to look at him immediately. "Ultimately, the only thing worth winning is this war. Do you agree, or do you not?"

He just sighed, tossed back as much ale as he could drink quickly, and got up. In her hurry to get out, Bastila bumped into a sour looking guy dressed like the average Tarisian noble.

"Hello there," he said, grabbing hold of her arm, "would you be interested in meeting…"

"For the last time, I am not a prostitute!" Bastila stormed, oblivious to the grin Carth made work of hiding behind his hand. "You will never solicit another woman again," she added, this time in a calm, assured voice.

"I will never solicit another woman again," the stranger repeated obediently.

"You will treat all women with the respect and dignity they deserve," Bastila lectured.

"Yes, I will treat all women with the respect and dignity they deserve," he affirmed dreamily.

"Good," Bastila nodded as she disengaged his hand from her arm with two fingers and moved rapidly towards the door.

Carth looked at her incredulously and then hurried after her, catching up to her and walking beside her. "What was that? Was that…"

"I used a method known as Mind Domination," Bastila said, a note of shame creeping into her voice. "It never works on the determined, only those who are fairly willing to be manipulated, or weak minded. I shouldn't have done it."

"It's not like you told the guy to commit suicide," Carth answered, watching her closely.

"I… the Force is not to be used frivolously. I was in error," she said plainly.

"You take yourself very seriously, don't you?" he queried.

She exhaled disbelievingly. "I have the power of the Force, Carth. I work with people who have incredible power, which could cause untold suffering if misused. Darth Malak should be a lesson to us all. We can never be complacent, and never use our gifts for our own profit or amusement. Nothing less than the advancement and protection of sentient life should prompt us to intervene or act."

"You mean, like the Mandalorian Wars," Carth said in what he tried to make a non-judgemental tone.

"There was suffering there, yes," Bastila said uneasily, "and many died. But the Masters saw something dreadful that would happen if we involved ourselves."

"Would that have been this Sith War? That happened when most of you didn't help us?" Carth couldn't help it, he was getting angry.

"We would have helped you eventually, in time! But you couldn't wait, and went for the quicker option. Darth Malak was a Jedi then, one of our best. And now…" she sighed, "there is no use in talking of what might have been. All we can deal with is the now and the future."

"There are many dead who have no future," he answered in a dull voice, clenching his jaw.

"I can offer you no more answers," Bastila stated hesitantly, "but I was only a girl when the issue arose. Perhaps, when we have secured my Master, you can talk to her and…" she paused. What was the real issue here? "Confront each other's opinions," she finished lamely.

He snorted. "Yeah, whatever."

"We must bend our minds to the problem ahead," Bastila said in a bracing tone. "How do we get down to the Lower City?"

They had walked a good distance – they were now within sight of the Lower City Elevator. As they watched, a squad of Sith soldiers sauntered up to the guard, who nodded and let them down without any further ado. Bastila glanced at Carth and saw him looking back at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

**Author's Notes: Thank you all for the lovely reviews! Explanations follow: I always found Brejik's voice really irritating in the game, so I changed that. I figured he'd have to be a good speaker to have got where he was so fast. Apologies if you don't like some of the language included. And if I make a Star Wars mistake, feel free to let me know. I only know the two Kotor games and what I can glean from fanfics. This story is still centred around Revan, so most of the stuff you already know will happen anyway, just slightly skewed.**


	3. Disguises, Deception and Dealings

**Chapter Three:** **Disguises, Deception and Dealings**

Bastila sneaked down the hallway of the fourth apartment block they'd searched, Carth some way behind her, trying to make as little noise as possible in his suit of steel plates, fastenings and fabric. With her supple protective bodysuit underneath her clothing, Bastila didn't have such problems. The problem she did have, however, was in weapons. She didn't want the heaviness and conspicuous appearance of swords or blades, nor the limited bludgeoning effect of her retractable quarterstaff, and she certainly didn't want the relative ineffectiveness of a blaster pistol or rifle. Not that she _ever _used such things. No, she wanted the comforting hum of her golden double bladed lightsaber that she had only recently crafted under her master. She had fought Carth tooth-and-nail to take it along with her on this undertaking, but Carth had been resolute and she really didn't want the issues of dealing with Carth if she failed at Force Persuading him. She shuddered – no, that would _not_ be good.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice that reminded Carth of Bastila echoed from just ahead.

A voice accompanied by a sound of static replied, "What does it look like, madam?" Who knew such an artificial voice could sound so sarcastic?

"It looks like you're ransacking my apartment. Good luck on finding anything of value," the first voice commented bitterly.

"Well, maybe we could get you to show us where you hide them. What do you say, boys? How long do you think she will hold out?"

As they crept into view, Bastila and Carth saw through the doorway three Sith soldiers looming threateningly before a determined looking woman. Carth had no time to notice anything other than that she was pretty, but Bastila saw that despite her bravery and the fact that she seemed to know how to hold a vibroblade, she was terrified.

"You'll not go unscathed," the woman promised grimly.

"Sounds like fun," one of the soldiers commented before lunging forward.

Bastila threw herself forward while activating her quarterstaff. The other woman stepped forward and raised her blade to foil the strike of another soldier, as Bastila attacked the first soldier in a controlled strike, powerful enough to strike the helmet off his head. Before the helm even landed on the ground there was a high pitched whine and the soldier fell abruptly, a hole between his eyes. Bastila didn't even dare look at Carth before she faced up against the third soldier, blocking his hits and swiping at him when she could. Before she realised it, the other woman had come behind him and calmly stabbed him from behind between the armoured plates. With a grisly moan, the last soldier crumpled to the ground and began bleeding heavily over the floor.

"If you want to collect my bounty," the woman panted at the astonished Bastila, "then you'll have to earn it the hard way!" She punctuated the statement with several jabs of her bloodied blade.

"Ah, bounty?" Bastila questioned while tightening her grip on her 'staff. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You…you don't?" the woman queried distrustfully.

"No, she doesn't," Carth replied from the other side, holstering his blasters and raising his hands in a supplicating gesture. "And, frankly, neither do I. We're not bounty hunters." He stepped forward into the apartment, the door closing after him.

"You're not?" the woman said bemusedly, appearing to suffer from some sort of delayed battle stupor.

To Bastila's amazement, Carth seemed to be calming the antagonistic woman down merely with his voice. "No. We try to protect people. I can understand why you're upset – this is something that would upset everyone. But we're not the bad guys here."

"Carth," Bastila whispered, "what are you doing?"

Carth glared at her and remained silent, his eyes returning to the woman who stared for a moment, and then sighed, her eyes closing and her hand raking through her hair. "I'm sorry," she replied, and put the vibroblade down.

"No problem," Carth shrugged, and picked up the helmet looking forlorn on the floor.

"My name is Dia," the woman suddenly offered. She looked at the dead Sith littering her floor seemingly for the first time and whispered, "What am I going to do?"

"You're in trouble," noted Bastila, ignoring Carth's eye roll. "Perhaps we could help."

"What makes you think you could help me?" Dia said bitterly, her eyes still on the Sith. "Have you got high up connections in the Sith so that you could get me pardoned for killing their men? Oh, wait, even that wouldn't help! The bounty is still there!" She pursed her lips in an effort not to cry.

Carth grimaced in thought as he stripped armour off a body ungently. "Is there any place you can go, do you think? Somewhere you'd be safe?"

"Funnily enough, there is such a place," she said in a voice not at all amused, "but I have no way of getting there. It's in the Lower City, and the Sith have blocked all access between the Lower and Upper Cities. Force only knows how Davik's goons traverse the two."

"Davik? Who's he?" Carth asked.

"You're an offworlder," Dia said, surprised. "You must be, otherwise you'd know. Before the Sith, Davik ruled Taris. Not legally, you understand, but he's one of the top men in the Exchange. You know…"

"I've heard of the Exchange," Carth assured her. "Bad organisation to cross."

"Tell me about it," Dia countered. "Anyway, Davik is such a god here that he posts bounties on anyone he likes, bad debts, grudges, anyone at all really, and what law exists here on Taris always turns a blind eye."

"How did you get on Davik's bad side?" Bastila asked curiously.

"Oh, I didn't. Don't even know the man. It's one of his couriers, actually. He'd made improper overtures to me ever since I'd worked there, and nobody could do a thing about it. In the meantime, he kept getting bolder and bolder… eventually, I told him to quit. With a vibroblade."

"Good job," commented Carth.

Bastila looked askance at him and replied primly, "Violence is never the answer."

"I'd like to know what else he'd have listened to," Dia rejoined sourly. "Well, Holdan – that's his name, hold'em Holdan – simply couldn't take the humiliation of being whipped by a girl. So he goes to his boss and tells him someone ruined his good name," Dia paused for a moment to laugh humourlessly, "and boom! There's a bounty on me. Dead. Only dead will do."

"We're looking for a friend," Carth offered. "She's probably in the Lower City."

"Good luck getting there," Dia scoffed.

"There is no luck, there is only the Force," Bastila said automatically, blushing slightly as Dia looked quizzically at her.

Carth stripped the last piece of armour from the second dead body and held it up. "I don't think we'll need luck."

The corners of Dia's mouth curled up. "Interesting. You need to get to your friend so badly?"

"We think she might be hurt," Carth said diplomatically.

"Take me with you," Dia begged swiftly.

"I don't think…" Bastila began.

"We have three suits," Carth interrupted. "I'm pretty sure we can wash away the blood, and if you can keep silent we'll do our best to protect you."

To his utter and complete surprise, Dia rushed up to him and hugged him fiercely. "Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me!" Glancing at Bastila, she added with difficulty, "I wish I had a father like you." She gathered up one pile of armour and disappeared into the refresher, assumedly to wash the bloodstains under water and change into it.

A pulse throbbed in Carth's throat as he bit his lip and glared at Bastila, who was smiling wickedly with her eyes cast down. "Want to say anything, _sweetie_?"

"Why, Daddy," she began, and then her smile faded. "We should hurry before they are missed," she said in her normal cold voice, gesturing to the dead bodies.

"Yes, let's do that," Carth said, a curious tightness in his throat. He started struggling into the suit he had intended for himself – the larger one.

Bastila's frown grew tight as she tried to ignore his muttered cursing, the discordant clanging which happened when either one of them dropped a piece, or the frustrated growls that threatened to build in her own throat as she grappled with her own suit. When she could take it no longer she cried, "For Force's sake, Carth! Stop your moaning and groaning! This is hard, I admit, but we must not waste time in frustration or we'll never rescue Revan!"

"If your master is so great," Carth grumbled, "then she should have no trouble rescuing herself."

"Many of Darth Malak's followers have mastered the Dark Side of the Force, Carth," Bastila pointed out coldly, "and the Sith have already killed or corrupted more than their fair share of Jedi in this war. There aren't that many of us left."

Carth glanced at her. "More than their fair share?"

"One Jedi killed or corrupted is more than their fair share," Bastila amended, disgruntled at his correction.

"I wouldn't even like to estimate the number of Republic soldiers who have died in this war," Carth said pointedly, "as well as the number of harmless civilians."

"Indeed," Bastila snapped, "and we as Jedi have a duty to protect them. Now, if you would cooperate with me, I could fulfil my responsibility!"

"I am cooperating with you," Carth retorted, "as my orders direct me to."

They fell silent as the refresher door opened, and Dia, clad in the Sith armour minus the helmet, emerged. "We'd better move," she said nervously, "These guys were having 'fun' on their own time, but I think someone will come looking for them soon."

Nodding in agreement, Bastila and Carth took the lead, donning the helmets, swaggering out of the apartment and making their way to the outside. Dia followed and tried to mimic the movements that Carth was making. Thankfully they weren't far from the elevator, and once they were there Carth again took the lead.

"Another patrol heading down into the Lower City, eh?" the Sith soldier standing guard asked.

"Affirmative," Carth answered stolidly.

"Well, be careful down there. They'll take a shot at anybody, even us!" recommended the soldier.

"Will do," Carth replied, saluting him and stalking into the elevator. The two ladies followed him a little more uncoordinatedly, for which he frowned at them. Not that they'd see, the full helmet taking care of that.

As the elevator began its downward voyage the silence was deafening.

"Well, Dia," Bastila began slowly, "You've been here before. Tell us what to expect before the door opens."

"Lots of kill crazy Vulkars," Dia said flatly.

"Kill crazy whatsits?" Carth asked perplexedly.

"Black Vulkars. They're one of the major swoop gangs down here. And the most vicious. Generally speaking, the Hidden Beks, the other major gang, are reasonably decent, for a gang, anyway. They have a good leader, Gadon Thek. As a matter of fact, that's where I want to go. Gadon has always been nice to me."

"Does he know everything that goes on around here?" Carth queried.

"Pretty much everything. The Vulkars know a lot too, but good luck trying to speak decently to them. Sometimes, in the cantina, they couldn't even manage rational conversation."

Taking off her helmet, Bastila fluffed her hair and followed the lead Carth had opened up. "Do you think you could get us an audience with Mr Thek?"

Dia pursed her lips. "I think. It depends what you want, though. Gadon's not a guy who will do something for nothing for strangers."

"We have to try," said Bastila. Just then, with a discordant tone, the elevator doors opened. Remembering what Dia had said, both Bastila and Carth readied their weapons to see… nothing. The place was deserted. And no wonder.

There was duracrete everywhere, pillars, roadways, ceilings – all an unrelenting shade of grey, adorned with graffiti and stains of various origins. There was refuse in the streets, mostly insufficient lighting in a completely underground complex and a smell they couldn't identify and simply didn't want to.

"And people live like this," Bastila whispered, comparing it to the waving fields of Dantooine.

"This is nothing to Nar Shadaa," Dia dismissed, "or even the Undercity on Taris. Several kilometres below us, there is a hell none of us want to even contemplate. At least here, the humans can go up and see the sky."

"Why doesn't somebody do something?" Bastila cried.

Carth answered for her, "Because the people who see the problems have no power, and the people who have the power see nothing, and don't care." He turned to Bastila for a moment, and said, "There are places where the Republic simply doesn't exist."

"We must be quiet," Dia said nervously. "This swoop war has gotten so out of hand that the Vulkars don't care what sort of prey they find, Bek or harmless bystander. We have quite a distance to the entrance of the Hidden Bek's hideout."

"May we stop so I can get out of this armour?" Bastila requested civilly. "I'm not used to armour at all, let alone heavy armour, and I will only be a liability in a battle."

"There's an apartment block near here the Vulkars usually don't go to," Dia offered, "We can probably find you a janitor's closet."

"Stuff that," Carth objected, "there's a fairly large wreck here. Strip it off behind it. Dia and I can watch for approaching targets."

Bastila flushed angrily, but noted the urgency of their mission and began to struggle with the fasteners of her Sith suit. Halfway through her operations a pair of what Dia identified as Vulkars appeared, and when they displayed their aggressive intentions, Carth cut them down swiftly with his blaster pistols. As Bastila wasn't looking, she couldn't say how well he wielded them, but judging by results, the man knew how to fight. Carth was the only one of them to retain his helmet.

"You are impressive with those," Dia indicated his blasters.

"Practise," Carth answered.

"So, what do I ask Gadon? He'll want to know something about you."

"Tell him…" Carth sighed and thought a moment.

"We are Republic soldiers," Bastila voiced from behind the wrecked…thing.

Carth groaned and gesticulated at the pile of rubbish. "What the hell? Why do you go and tell her that?"

Bastila poked her head around her shelter and glared at him. "I think it's clear we may trust her now."

"You don't trust anybody," Carth ordered with stabs of his forefinger, "and even if we can trust her, how do we know we can trust this Gadon?"

"Excuse me," Dia interrupted, "but Gadon is no lover of the Sith. In fact, this may be all the introduction he needs. And for what it's worth, I hope the Republic wins. I've seen things during this occupation that makes what happened in my apartment seem fairly tame by comparison."

"You have some serious issues," Bastila said, ignoring Dia, and focussing on the agitated soldier. "If you're not careful, you may not live to see the next few years."

"So long as _a certain somebody_ gets his, I don't mind that outcome," Carth hissed.

"If you keep going like this, you're going to get a psychological evaluation and get pulled from duty," Bastila criticized.

"You should take your own advice. In my opinion, you shouldn't even be given a command, let alone keep one."

Bastila allowed herself to envision Carth's gruesome demise for a moment before emerging Sith suit-less from her refuge and placing hands on hips, asked, "Are you finished? Can we go yet?"

Merely scowling instead of responding with his hands, Carth trudged ahead, Dia beside him. Occasionally Dia would break the silence and point out landmarks, such as her former workplace 'Javyar's Cantina'. "And around this bend is the entrance to the Hidden Bek base. They generally post a lookout, especially in these troubled times." Dia peeked around the corner and then drew back, her eyes large and frightened. "We've come across a bad situation!"

Consumed by curiosity, Bastila thrust her head around the side before being jerked back roughly by Carth. "Didn't you hear her, Shan? Bad things around that corner! Let me look instead," he whispered fiercely.

Bastila pushed back at Carth, her face flushed and angry. "How dare you lay hands on me! I've tolerated quite enough from you, and if you think…" her voice petered away when her hearing registered the sound of heavy footsteps.

"Sith," an uncultured, gravelled voice mused for a moment before remarking, "Your kind isn't welcome here!"

Dia pulled her vibroblade and reflected on the irony of life. The very suits that assured them protection in the Upper City and passage to the Lower City now made them into big shiny targets. A brief moment before the scuffle started, she consoled herself by remembering that the Vulkars attacked anything breathing, regardless of their artificial carapace.

The shrieks of steel on steel, the high pitched whines of blaster bolts and the panting and groaning of physical exertion were all the sounds that issued from the tight packed melee of sentient life. Carth operated on a purely instinctual level, dodging, kicking, jabbing and firing all without any other conscious thought than that he'd better stay alive. Bastila gave herself into the Force, obeying the thrumming in her nerves and muscles, executing a terribly beautiful dance, while stabbing, striking and blocking with her quarterstaff. Dia held on grimly to her senses, fighting in the most efficient, practical way she had been taught, not forgetting all the weapons at her disposal or too honour bound to stab others in the back.

Groaning from a boot in the gut, Carth fired a final shot, ending the sudden confrontation. All the mentally challenged Vulkars were either dead or unconscious. He glared at Bastila who looked like she was in a trance, a fighting pose, eyelids lidded and her mouth partly open. Dia was grimacing, wiping her blade on the clothing of a fallen Vulkar. Noting sourly that Bastila would need some time to 'wake up', Carth limped to the nearest corpse and started rifling through its pockets.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bastila said, horrified. Apparently, she was more awake than he thought.

"We have very little resources," Carth pointed out. "We can't afford to be picky."

"He's right," Dia said, laying a cautious hand on Bastila, "daintiness isn't in Taris's vocabulary."

"Hey," said someone behind them. Carth fingered his blaster as he shot a look towards the sound.

"Ammi!" Dia cried as she leapt forward to hug the stranger; a woman dressed in frayed armour who looked as if she knew how to handle both the blade and blaster on her belt.

"Dee," Ammi smiled. "Gadon was concerned about you. Want to come inside?"

"Yes," Dia said, adding, "My friends and I all."

**Author's Notes: Thank you all who read and reviewed! I always thought the Star Wars armour looked complicated and was probably very time consuming in the assembly (I can't even imagine you could put it all on in one piece). I also thought it was possible that before the Sith occupation Dia actually worked in Javyar's Cantina, and would therefore know the swoop gangs. It's my opinion she would be more on the side of the Beks, than the Vulkars. If the occupation trapped Dia in the Upper City, then she would have no choice but to hide in her apartment and hope no bounty hunters found her. And I'm sorry for the 'western' reference! (Your kind ain't welcome here!) It just seemed appropriate. And it may be a while before Revan appears again, but I'll try to make it before Carth and Bastila kill each other.**


	4. Dialogue Delight

**Chapter Four:** **Dialogue Delight**

As Bastila stepped daintily to the command centre, she smiled internally at Carth's unhappiness. They had been allowed into the Hidden Bek base only if they surrendered their weapons. Bastila now only had a feeling of deep disgust for her quarterstaff, and though she longed to feel the cool metal of her lightsaber warming in her hand, she felt quite comfortable as she knew 'A Jedi is never powerless.' But Carth, on the other hand, was quite visibly mourning for the temporary loss of his blaster pistols, and Bastila, despite feeling guilty, was going to extract every bit of contentment from the scene to bolster her self-control later as needed.

Ahead of her lay an important looking desk with inlaid computer components, ensuring that even if the master of the Hidden Beks never left his seat, he would know everything that went on in the base, and quite a few things that happened outside of it. That may have been the case, because even from this distance, Bastila could see that the leader who sat at it had milky white eyes that just didn't look quite right. Not that he was defenceless. Oh, no.

Beside him was a Twi'lek woman, Zaerdra, whose skin colouring was an unusual shade of violet. But she wasn't dressed in a skimpy outfit or even had decorative tints on her lekku. Instead she wore a sturdy set of armour that looked like it was quite heavily customised, a wicked looking blade at her belt, at which was also holstered a strange blaster pistol. The way she held her forearms and hands indicated that there were blades secreted in her sleeves, and if that was the case, then she probably had several more in her boots and any other areas that she could fit them. But perhaps most frightening of all was the look in her eyes, a fanatical attentiveness that focussed with cold intent on Bastila and Carth.

With the same air that he had approached Dia, Carth smiled and began to offer his hand, jumping back when Zaerdra whipped out a small blade and held it in front of his eyes.

"Zaerdra!" Gadon scolded, waving her back. "You're behaving like a Vulkar!"

"You're too trusting, Gadon," she rebuked her leader, "They could be working for the Sith!" She gestured contemptuously at Carth's armour – he had, by this time, removed his helmet.

"They helped Dia," Gadon replied mildly. "And I'm not as decrepit as you make me out to be. I am still leader of the Beks."

With a bowing motion, Zaerdra lowered her eyes and stepped back a pace. "Very well. But just remember," she said, directing a glare at Bastila and Carth, "I'll be watching you. If you make a move…"

Gadon cleared his throat. Zaerdra subsided, a pout on her lips contrasting oddly with the steely look in her eyes.

"We're not with the Sith," Carth said, grimacing as if he'd tasted something unpleasant.

"I know that," Gadon returned. "Dia told me you were Republic soldiers. I can see you are. You look like you're an army man. I don't know about your companion, but I hope she will tell me. Firstly, let's not be uncivil. My name is Gadon Thek. I am, as you've no doubt assumed, the leader of the Hidden Beks."

"I'm Carth Onasi, commander and pilot in the Republic Fleet," Carth offered.

"I'm Stella," Bastila began, "I'm a consultant in the Republic Fleet, recruited for my skills."

"Pleased to meet you," Gadon affirmed. "Now that we have that out of the way, have you any questions for me?"

Carth paused for a moment of thought. Dia had assured him that she would tell Gadon everything. What was Gadon doing?

Bastila spoke up. "Would you be able to explain the situation here? I've never… well, the Vulkars' behaviour seems to me to be extremely odd."

A sardonic grin quirked Gadon's lips. "Extremely odd… what a diplomatic way of saying that the Vulkars are behaving like poisoned gizka. Attacking their enemies, bystanders, and even their friends if they're not careful…"

"Scum," snorted Zaerdra.

"They weren't always so," Gadon explained. "The Black Vulkars were once much like my Beks. Two years ago, during the annual swoop racing championship, I was injured in a swoop crash."

"You shouldn't have been riding at all," Zaerdra commented. "You're the leader of the Hidden Beks, you have a duty to protect yourself."

"I've never listened to advice I didn't want to hear," Gadon admitted wryly. "I survived, naturally, but my sight was completely destroyed. My nephew Brejik had been groomed since his boyhood to be my successor, but he was still so young, and I knew I wasn't finished yet. These implants…" he tapped one of his artificial eyeballs with his fingernail, making Bastila shudder, "help me to function normally. So I decided not to retire as yet, and informed him of that. I expected he'd be disappointed, but not that he'd be so furious as to storm off and abandon the Beks. He quickly joined the Black Vulkars, and soon we began to hear of inside coups, the 'accidental' deaths of key figures in the gang, and anybody else who disagreed with him. Brejik rose to the leader of the Vulkars and moulded the gang into his new personality – ruthless, hungry, and violently opposed to us Beks." His expression darkened, as he stated, "He's not the nephew I knew. I don't know what else is to be done, but he must be stopped somehow."

Carth suppressed a scowl. More betrayal; as if the universe wasn't already full of it.

With an uneasy look on her face, Bastila once again became their spokesperson. "We're on our own mission. We were the only survivors that crashed on Taris's Upper level. We need to find the others, and make sure they're not in the hands of the Sith."

"You're already too late," Gadon informed them. "All of the pods that crashed here in the Lower City have already been searched by the gangs and the Sith, and all survivors, not that there were that many, were hauled off to the military base the Sith have confiscated in the Upper City. I'd hazard a guess that either they're all dead by now, or they wish they were. The ones in the Undercity that I know of have had a much more worse fate. From what I've heard, there's only been one survivor found – all the rest were eaten by rakghouls or mutated into them." At their horrified looks, he elaborated. "We have a unique monstrosity here on Taris – a disease which horriby defects and mutates humans into mindless, savage beasts. We call them rakghouls. They prey on anything breathing. The disease can be contracted through bite wounds. It's untreatable. All victims are confined to the Undercity, where they roam in packs and hunt, or if the hunting is thin, tear each other apart."

"This…this survivor you told us of, what happened to him or her?" Carth asked slowly, trying not to absorb the mind pictures of what Gadon had just informed them.

"It's a she, a female soldier. I don't know much more information about her, other than where she'll be in two days."

"It's Revan, I'm sure of it," Bastila said determinedly.

"Where will she be?" asked Carth.

"At the swoop race championship. It's a very important race for the swoop gangs, and, indeed, all of Taris. And it has a new responsibility riding on it this year – the fate of the Hidden Beks," Gadon said evenly.

"And you believe we can merge our goals and both profit from the partnership," Carth accused.

Zaerdra took a step forward and fingered her blade at the hostile tone of voice, but what really annoyed Carth was Bastila taking a step forward and to the side, unconsciously shielding him. _He _was supposed to be protecting _her._ What was she, blind?

"I know we can," answered Gadon calmly. He watched silently as Zaerdra followed his unspoken command and settled down sourly, and looked Carth straight in the eyes. "You're a perceptive man."

"I have my moments," Carth countered.

_Oh, wonderful,_ Bastila thought, _he's already trying to alienate our newest fragile ally._ "We will listen to your terms, at least," she offered, smiling hesitantly.

"We must win that race," Gadon said bluntly. "We could do it, too, if we still had the accelerator prototype our scientists have been working on for the last year."

"What happened to it?" Bastila questioned.

"The Vulkars happened to it. We suspect it was a failed assassination plot – by the merest chance I wasn't in the base at the time. When I returned, everything was in chaos – and by the time I and my people got the place running and removed all the enemy spy equipment, the stock take revealed our loss. With that prototype they will be invincible at that race."

"Unless…" prompted Bastila.

"Unless someone steals it back for us."

"And Revan… the Republic soldier?" Bastila queried.

"She is being offered up as a prize for that race," Gadon explained, watching Carth's face freeze and Bastila gasp in shock. "Whoever wins the race, wins her. They can either keep her as their slave, or offer her up to the Sith for the reward – either way, she's very valuable."

"How did she end up as a prisoner?" Carth asked.

"The Vulkars found her and her escape pod before the Sith did, I assume. They captured her and dragged her back to their boss. She's lucky she's so valuable, actually. If it wasn't for the race, she'd probably prefer being with the rakghouls."

"So you're saying we need to storm the Vulkar base to get your accelerator. Would the prisoner be there too?"

"You've seen the Vulkar scum. Brejik's too smart to let her anywhere near them. He probably has half a dozen safe houses where she could be – and we couldn't possibly find her before the race. I am offering you the only way to get your friend back. You can consider it for a while – but don't leave it too long. You haven't much time."

"We will do it," Bastila said without a glance at Carth.

"What are you doing?" Carth hissed at Bastila.

Bastila barely looked at him before advancing a step and leaning on Gadon's desk, staring fiercely into his robotic eyes. "But we will need all the details."

"You will have them," Gadon promised with a gleam of humour. "But you'd better get some sleep first. According to Dia, you've had a rough day, and it will only get worse from now on. Zaerdra will show you to your resting place."

"Comforting words," Carth mumbled.

"Don't worry," said Gadon, proving he had excellent hearing. "Zaerdra's actually a big softy."

With an incredulous glance at Gadon, Carth reluctantly followed Zaerdra, Bastila close behind him. It was a difficult situation for him, not only because, being male, he had always appreciated the grace of a woman's movements, but mostly because Zaerdra was so obviously hostile, and if things came to the worst, he would have to defend himself against a woman. Veteran soldier or not, Carth had been raised to respect all women. This moral conscience of his made him scowl even more deeply. Jedi or no, Bastila was a woman too. And he was expecting to deliver as good a reprimand he could contrive to her for her actions as soon as they were in private. Why couldn't he have escaped the Endar Spire with a sensible Ensign, anyway?

Bastila let loose a soft sigh. What on earth was making that morose soldier upset now? She had had it up to here with his arrogant assumption of command. Sure, he was older, _much_ older as everyone pointed out, but she was a Jedi! She was guided by the Force! She could _use_ the Force! And why wouldn't he trust her? She was a Jedi, incorruptible. Everyone looks up to the Jedi Order.

Zaerdra led her charges through three different halls, one large 'recreation' room, and to the unremarkable door that she eventually stopped at. "This will be your room for the night," Zaerdra explained coolly. "It is furnished with two bunks and has a small ensuite. It also has a chrono. It would be wise if you didn't emerge until our meeting tomorrow morning." With that, Zaerdra gave them a last warning look and departed.

"Thank you," Bastila said meekly, moving inside ahead of Carth. Carth walked in after her and pressed the locking device on the door once it had slid shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Carth questioned her as she gingerly tested the bunk she had chosen with her palm.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander," she returned icily without looking at him.

"You agreed to work for Gadon without consulting me and without making sure his story was straight! His is the only word we've got that there is such a survivor! Or even that there's a swoop race!" He dragged his hands through his hair.

"He wasn't lying, Carth," Bastila said more warmly, now that she understood what his problems were.

"Yeah? How do you know that? Just because he's polite doesn't mean he's honest! Don't be naïve, Bastila."

"I am _not_ naïve, Carth," Bastila ground out, good humour gone, "I simply meant I felt no deception from him. Jedi senses, you know."

"Well, you might have pointed that out in the first place," Carth complained. "Jedi senses I trust," kind of, "wishful thinking, I don't."

"Finally, something you do trust," Bastila smirked, "I was beginning to worry about you."

"You'd better worry about yourself. You're the one the Sith want, not me," Carth shot back, unamused.

"Yes," Bastila hesitated. "But you are right; I didn't consult you first. I should have, after all, I was offering your services along side of mine."

Carth sighed, his hair thoroughly messed up. "Look, we've come a long way. We've got things done we couldn't have done alone, and that was while we were squabbling like children. We've… we've done well, I think. But if we're going to survive long enough to rescue your Master and get off Taris, we're going to have to do better." He forced the next words. "I know that I'm not the easiest person to work with. It's clear to me many of my habits annoy you."

She felt shamed. Diplomacy was taught to Jedi, not pilots. "I know I shouldn't be too quick to judge. I know too well how unmanageable some people find me." What was it Revan said worked in difficult situations? Humour. Hmm. Better yet, Revan said, humour that puts one in a ridiculous light. There is no emotion… there is peace. "My temper was legendary in my younger years. One of my earlier Masters did his best to cure me by dousing me with a bucket of water when my temper grew too hot."

A gentle smile graced Carth's face as he took a seat on his bunk. "My mom never had to resort to that. She'd just frown, and you knew you were toast."

"She sounds like a remarkable woman," Bastila offered. _Diplomatic Trick #7: establish common ground._

"She was. Had all of us wrapped around her finger and never raised her voice," Carth reminisced, the rare smile still twitching his lips. After a while, he sighed and straightened up. "You're a remarkable woman, Bastila."

A flush settled on Bastila's cheeks. _Hang on, he's… he's not trying to…I know I'm still a woman, but I'm a Jedi!_

"I know you can take care of yourself," Carth continued, unaware of Bastila's inner anxiety, "and you can probably fight better than I can, but it's in my nature to protect. That's why I joined the Fleet, it's who I am. If you can put up with that, I think we can work together."

"I'll try not to make decisions without consulting you first, Commander," Bastila said, trying to focus on the conversation.

"That's all I can ask," Carth acknowledged. The conversation over, he then began the complicated process of taking off the rest of the Sith armour.

_Oh no,_ mused Bastila, _not the return of the orange jacket!_ Still, she had to acknowledge, fashion sense or not, Commander Onasi was more than she had expected. _Another lesson not to judge so quickly. If the Masters knew, if Revan knew, exactly what has happened these last few days, would they praise me or correct me?_

Coincidentally, as Carth lay beneath his blankets, his mind held only the thought of what his mother might think of Bastila, and his treatment of her. And what would Bastila think of her? He grinned sleepily at the thought as he drifted off to sleep – two women of forceful personality, both. Would the universe have survived?

**Author's Notes and Explanations: All of you who have reviewed are awesome! I need you to point out my mistakes and tell me what you would like to see next. I will take all of your comments into consideration. Of course, those who regularly read my things but don't review are appreciated too. After all, I am writing it to be read. **

**Okay, so if Brejik is cunning and able to rise to the top in a rival gang so quickly, someone had to teach him (his adopted father, according to Mission) and that somebody had to be cunning as well. 'You don't get to be leader of a swoop gang unless you know how to figure all the angles.' I've made him a bit different to what was in the game, more like he would know how to play chess, or dejarik, whatever, and win at it. This guy is extremely polite, very socially adept, and is busily figuring out his advantages all the time. I do hope I haven't made Zaerdra too psychotic. And I take no credit for dousing Bastila with water – look at the KOTOR soundfiles and you'll find a mention of it by Nemo (streamwaves – m14aa – nemo07 – nm14aanemo07012_ to 14_. Use Miles Sound Player – available free). There is actually heaps of game dialogue I'm using in this fic. I'm using the American 'mom' instead of the Australian 'Mum'. It seems most of my readers are Americans. Hello over there! Tell me if any Australianisms leak into my fic!**

**Oh, and one thing – It's still Revan x Carth, not Bastila x Carth. Seriously, she's far too young for him, and they'd kill each other. Really. They just needed to release some tension before they built it back up again.**


	5. A Failsafe Plan, a Counter Lunch

**Chapter Five:** **A Failsafe Plan, a Counter Lunch and a Gladiator**

In the 'morning', back in Gadon's control room, Carth and Bastila faced the 3D holographic representation of the Vulkar base. Gadon and his faithful shadow Zaerdra were present as well as one of the Hidden Bek's scientists who was content for the moment to sit and listen.

"Before we go into these details," Gadon began, "let's start with some details. I do hope you haven't grown attached to your Sith disguises."

"I'll be happy if I never have to get into one of those again," Carth said feelingly.

"Good," smiled Gadon, "because I could use those suits. Dia told us where the other one was, and we've recovered that as well."

"What will you do with them?" Bastila asked curiously.

"I think something is going to happen," Gadon said, for the first time sounding uncertain, "and I want all the edges for my people that I can get. I've been 'collecting' these suits for a while. And on one of my 'collection' trips, we came across some interesting Sith paperwork. I'm giving it to you," he handed over a computer chip on a black ribbon.

Digging out his datapad, Carth inserted the chip and scanned the files. Basically, they were incorruptible unique passports that allowed an unspecified number of civilians in a party to access all Sith controlled elevators. Failure to comply with this order was harsh. "A flailing alive before being slowly dissolved in an acid designed to elicit maximum agony," Carth noted, a whistle pursing his lips. "Well, I never thought the Sith were particularly cuddly."

"The party carrying this were quickly disposed of and won't be discovered," Gadon assured them. "My people have used these several times without incident."

"I thought the Vulkar Base was in the Lower City," Bastila said, puzzled.

"Oh, it is," agreed Gadon, "but the entrance is impossible to storm. For one thing, you can't open it from this side."

"There's another entrance," Carth guessed.

"In the Undercity," Gadon said simply.

Bastila eyed Gadon in disbelief. "That's where the disease ridden lunatics are."

"Yes. My men have gone into the Undercity several times, and taking precautions, they escaped harm." Gadon moved over to a shelf, and took down a slightly battered Echani brand, a light double bladed sword of good construction. He brought it over to Bastila. "Your quarterstaff would be worse than useless there, I'm afraid, Stella. And you, Commander Onasi, couldn't move quickly enough in heavy armour, so we have an Echani suit for you. It should provide you some protection while not compromising your mobility." He gave Carth a pack. "There are some visors in there, as well. The Undercity is darker than here."

Zaerdra spoke up. There was none of her hostility present this time, but still the same hard focus. "The elevator to the Undercity is at this location." The holographic image changed, showing a map of their current location at the Bek base with a broken line leading to the elevator. She calmly took the datapad out of Carth's hands and connected it to an electronic panel in the desk. "All the necessary information will be present on your datapad before you leave us."

Gadon spoke up again. "From the time you exit the elevator in the Undercity, you will be in a village of the Outcasts." Seeing their puzzlement, he clarified, "Taris has no prisons. Those who commit crimes are shoved down into the Undercity and never come back, not they or their descendants. They're known as the Outcasts, poor devils."

"How do we find the secret Vulkar base entrance?" Carth asked.

Bastila glared at him. Didn't he care about the Outcasts?

"You must go outside of the Outcast village. Keep going and you should come to one of three sewer entrances. Don't worry if you get a little lost – we have a good map that we'll add to your datapad."

"Sewers, eh?" Carth grimaced in distaste.

"Inhabited by Gamorrean slavers, at last report," Gadon said blandly.

"And also rakghouls, naturally?" frowned Bastila.

"Naturally," Gadon agreed. "There is a force field protecting the way to the Vulkar entrance. There is only one person other than the Vulkars who has the code to it."

"Mission?" Zaerdra suddenly exclaimed. "Gadon, you can't be serious. She's just a kid!"

"She goes into the Undercity regularly and always comes back from it," Gadon returned. "Most commandos couldn't do as much. Of course, that might have something to do with Zaalbar."

"Are these people to be our allies?" Bastila asked.

"Yes. Mission Vao is the smartest teenage Twi'lek I've met," Gadon said fondly. "Reminds me of myself at that age. You'll recognise her easily, she's blue and has an attitude, also a giant hairy bodyguard. Zaalbar's a Wookiee that she befriended a while ago. I don't know how, but she understands what he says most of the time, and that's more than anyone else can do."

"And if Mission isn't in perfect health when she comes back," Zaerdra said quietly, looking at Carth, "more things than the accelerator will go missing." Her gaze dipped meaningfully and then back up again.

Meeting her gaze, Carth put a lid on his rising fear. He was just a man, after all. "I'll look after her as if she were my own," he promised.

Zaerdra just looked at him. She had no need to say any more.

Lips twitching in an unwilling smile, Gadon refocussed their attention back on him. "You'll probably find Mission in Javyar's. She spends every morning in there. Busiest little gossip in the Lower City."

Looking most unhappy, Zaerdra brooded, "She shouldn't go there at all. Javyar's is no place for a woman, let alone a girl."

Gadon clapped her on the shoulder, and was, surprisingly, left unharmed. "You made her promise not to go there at night, and she has Zaalbar. Not the stupidest lady-killer would risk angering a Wookiee."

"Any further problems we should know?" Carth asked professionally.

"Actually, yes. That's why I brought Paton here," Gadon motioned to the scientist, "There is a final obstacle blocking the Undercity entrance to the Vulkar Base. A rancor of impressive size. That's one thing we just haven't been able to overcome until lately. Paton has perfected a rancor attracting pheromone cocktail."

Perplexed, Bastila wondered, "And that would help us how? Get eaten faster?"

Paton shook his head eagerly. "No, indeed, that wouldn't do at all. The serum is tightly corked in a vial, and sealed so no trace can escape before you want it to. Would be nasty, that would. So, you booby trap something with explosives, and pour the mixture over – making sure you don't get any on yourself, of course…"

"And kaboom. A new spin on an old trick. Sounds good," Carth commented.

Gadon sighed. "The next part you won't like. We don't have up to date information on the Vulkar Base layout. All our information on that point is at least sixty years old. We believe the garages are still in the basement level, but other than that, you'll have to find your own way around. And though there are plenty of Vulkars on the streets, there's bound to be a good number at the base. They won't go down easy."

Carth frowned. "You wouldn't have a rough estimate of how many men we can expect?"

Gadon shook his head negatively. "Anywhere from forty to a hundred, I suspect. They're not all at the same level, you understand. There'll be some mindless grunts who are useless with any type of weapon, as well as the kind of punks you see on the streets. There should be some lieutenants, too – they're very dangerous. Brejik's second in command, Kandon, is a particularly vicious fighter. If you see him, you'd better be very, very careful."

Interrupting them, Zaerdra spoke up. "But chances are you'll have Mission's Wookiee on your side. Mission tells me he can bat around rakghouls like they're nothing, so you'll have some chance." She narrowed her eyes and pointed again to Carth. "Mission shouldn't do any fighting."

"I don't usually send teenaged girls to the front line of fighting," Carth replied.

"_When_ you have the accelerator," Gadon said, stressing the 'when', "you can open the Lower City Entrance from the inside and get back here without going back through the sewers and the Undercity."

"And when you win the race, you'll hand over the Republic Soldier to us," Carth emphasized.

Sticking out his hand, Gadon said seriously, "My hand on it. My honour is unchallenged."

Carth accepted it, shook briefly and took back his datapad, now disconnected from the desk, and secured it in a pocket. Hefting the pack Gadon had given him, he watched as Bastila said her elaborate goodbyes and merely nodded an acknowledgement. In a very few minutes, they were attired in their battle gear and signalling the current keeper of the door.

"Dia showed us that cantina yesterday, did she not?" Bastila said distractedly.

"Yeah. I remember. It's a way up there. Can't miss the sign," Carth said economically, trudging rhythmically.

Another thing Bastila disliked about Carth; he was not a morning person. When forced to, he would talk. She had been surprised when he had asked intelligent questions this morning, but still he was more taciturn than his usual self. On the other hand, Carth abhorred cheery morning people almost as much as he hated the Sith. He was honestly proud that he hadn't blasted anyone for being bright and breezy in the morning. Yet.

Obviously, the Rodian guard at the entrance of Javyar's Cantina felt much the same way as Carth did. His hand was gripped tightly around an activated stun stick, the electricity snapping angrily around the shaft. As well as any human could read Rodian features – which was not very well at all – the Rodian seemed displeased. Or maybe hung over. In his own strange language he warned them: "You make trouble, I throw you out. Don't make trouble."

He had to be satisfied with their nods as they went past him into the first room, which was set out with an enormous card table. Mostly enthusiastic gamblers hovered over it, playing different card games and several with chance cubes. Credits of many denominations and in varying states of cleanliness were spilled irregularly over the surface – it seemed like the night had not been long enough for the card sharks and their prey. Or perhaps they simply had nothing else to do with the Sith quarantine halting their progress. Bastila didn't question the issue much, curling her lip and fastidiously trying to get past without touching anyone.

The centre room was in the shape of a circle with a bar located in the middle, four rooms leading to all the opposite angles. All were in a state of grime, with proof of a thousand meals stuck to varying surfaces, not all of them tables. Bastila had already resolved to breathe through her nose. There were two overworked waitresses, both dressed skimpily and looking very harassed. Carth remembered Dia and pitied her afresh.

The bartender was a lethargic Twi'lek man who was indifferently rubbing the bar counter with a cloth. His eyes fastened on them as they approached him.

"Do you know where Mission is?" Carth asked succinctly.

"You want information, you buy breakfast," the Twi'lek said flatly.

"Um, okay," Carth said, handing a five credit chit over. "You enjoy."

"No, not my breakfast," the Twi'lek explained. "Your breakfast."

"Oh, but we've already eaten," Bastila said quickly, turning faint at the idea of being served food in this place.

"You buy breakfast, or no information," the Twi'lek said impassively.

"We'll have your smallest… lightest, non meat, non vegetable… thing," Carth said after a while.

"No, Carth, how many blue Twi'lek girls do you see around here?" Bastila hissed at him.

"We never promised to eat it," Carth whispered back.

Placated, Bastila nodded to the Twi'lek and said lamely, "What Carth said."

The Twi'lek held out his hand and Carth placed another five credit chit in it. Then the Twi'lek gave them each…something. It seemed to be some sort of cake made from flour, cut into two slabs, and had a thick opaque pink-purple paste spread in the middle. Bastila accepted hers gingerly, smiling nervously at the Twi'lek.

"Is good," the Twi'lek insisted, "you try. My recipe."

"Oh, I never eat standing up," Bastila gushed anxiously, "I have a stomach condition! Very bad things happen. I'll just go over…" she looked for somewhere nice and crowded to sit at, where she could dispose of her unwanted handful without the bartender noticing, "…over there! By the dancing Twi'leks. I love watching dancing Twi'leks," Bastila said frantically, waving her 'breakfast' pathetically, "they are so graceful!"

"We'll be back later," Carth offered the bartender, otherwise controlling his face as best as he could. So this is what Bastila in a meltdown looked like. How interesting. He hesitantly grabbed her arm and dragged the floundering Jedi away so she could recover her wits and lose her 'breakfast'.

"Oh," she said a moment later as he pushed her gently into a chair. She was grateful Carth unconcernedly faced away from her and dropped his 'breakfast' on the grime of the floor, placing a foot on it for good measure. She was content to lever hers onto her foot and discreetly catapult it beneath the stage. She heaved a sigh of relief as it was rendered unreturnable. _I'm not a hypochondriac_, she assured herself primly, _I'm just fastidious about what I touch and eat. My body is a temple, after all._

Carth decided to give her some time to recover a bit, so he skewed himself around in his chair, looking for teenaged blue Twi'leks.

Steady, Bastila told herself. There is no emotion… there is peace. She was jostled suddenly in her chair by an overexcited patron. Scowling, she settled herself back and closed her eyes, positioning her hands gingerly on the edge of the table and entering a light meditation trance.

Inch by inch, she relaxed her muscles, allowing the sounds and scents of her current undesirable location to fade away and be replaced by the sound of flowing water and rustling vegetation. She recalled the scent of the rain upon the grasses before harvest time, and the hot warmth of a large flat rock in the sun. She had spent time on Coruscant, and had been born on Talravin, but if her heart lay with any one planet, it would have to be Dantooine. Generations of Jedi had lived there, imprinting the soil with serenity, and the population otherwise was sparse, comprising of farmer/hunters and the occasional out of work mercenary. Nature had never been unbalanced on Dantooine, and the very trees themselves whispered of contentment and security.

Her trance was broken abruptly as the man behind her once again jostled her, this time enough to unbalance her and tip her out of her seat. She cried out as she hit the floor awkwardly, her head knocking against the back of someone's legs.

"Hey, watch it," an undoubtedly masculine voice growled petulantly. "Wait a minute," he said as he took a better look. "Hey, good looking. I can't believe I didn't see you before. Well, I was looking pretty hard at the girls," he said, waving a hand at the dancing Twi'leks on the stage. He got caught up in them for a moment more. "Man, look at them waggle their… head tails," he finished as he recalled who he was talking to.

"And you are?" Bastila asked haughtily from her viewpoint on the floor.

"My name's Holdan, baby, but you can call me whatever you want," Holdan offered rakishly, holding his hand out to her.

Outwardly, Bastila was impassive. Inwardly, she was reflecting, _I'm a Jedi, and even I'm annoyed by your unoriginality._ "Well, then, Mr Holdan," she began.

"Let's not be so formal, baby," said Holdan, pulling her up with one hand and attempting to wander with the other. "Though I'm pleased to see you know I'm a guy to respect."

"Let me guess, if I didn't, you would set a bounty on me?" Bastila asked tightly. She remembered Dia, and she was seriously thinking about severing the man's hand. Far from Dia being too hard on the man, she decided: Dia had been far too lenient.

"You've heard about that, huh?" Holdan said, backing off slightly. "I had to do that. She cut me. She shouldn't have done that. I'm Davik's guy, you know."

Bastila glared at him menacingly. Well, she was a Jedi, wasn't she? Part of her job as a Jedi Sentinel was to 'ferret out deceit and injustice, bringing it to light.' Heh, her pleasure.

"You will call off the bounty on Dia," Bastila intoned strongly, deftly weaving the Force through her words. "You were in the wrong."

"Yes… Dia's not a bad girl… I was in the wrong," Holdan breathed.

Bastila couldn't resist the temptation. "And you will seriously consider chemical castration."

"Yes," Holdan said blearily. "I've been a very bad boy…"

"Indeed," agreed Bastila, releasing him from her energy and leaving him there blinking dazedly. Feeling very pleased with herself, she nevertheless felt a spike of irritation that Carth had apparently left her to her own devices. A Jedi may never be defenceless, but for someone who was supposedly on the lookout for her protection, he was doing a lousy job. But she wasn't left waiting long, as Carth came back soon looking paler than usual.

"I had to go," he explained, but then warned her, "if you feel the need, hold it till we get outside. You'll prefer it, believe me."

Bastila didn't know whether to thank him for the information, or glare at him for being too personal. It was all a moot point, anyway, as she did _not_ feel the need, and besides, she knew several rather handy Jedi techniques.

"So, you see a blue Twi'lek while I was gone?" Carth asked civilly, to change the subject.

"No, I did not," Bastila complained, "but I was propositioned by an extremely unpleasant criminal called Holdan."

"Holdan?" Carth repeated, searching his memory. "Hey, that's the scum that put the bounty on Dia!" Carth rose again from his seat, clenching his fists. Bastila scowled at him and motioned him down.

"_Not_ that I needed your help. I was quite well equipped to handle him, thank you. And I convinced him to call off Dia's bounty."

His eyebrows raised, Carth made a slight waving gesture with his hand, as he said, "You 'convinced' him, eh?"

"Indeed," smirked Bastila, nodding. Carth knew she had used the Force.

A smile spread slowly over his face. "That's what I call responsible use," he grinned, but then his face fell at a sudden thought, "I'd still like to beat the crap out of him, though."

She hardly heard that last thought. Responsible use? Oh, Force, if the Masters had seen! As she and Carth reapproached the bartender for their information, she attempted to shake the thoughts away. Getting preoccupied with her behaviour now would only lead to complications. When she had time to re-evaluate her actions quietly, she would have to remember to do so.

"You want to see Mission?" the Twi'lek greeted them immediately. "No good. No good at all."

"We need to see her," Carth insisted.

"She not here. Last night she go down below, not come up. She always come up, but not this time. She gone."

"Down below… the Undercity? She's still there?" Carth asked worriedly. Great, now he had to watch out for Zaerdra!

"Yeah – in bits and pieces, most likely," the bartender returned apathetically and returned to his morose cleaning.

As they walked back towards the door, Carth mused on his thoughts. Gadon had referred to Mission as plucky and clever, and Zaalbar as incredibly strong and loyal to Mission. It was always possible that they had been surprised and quickly overpowered and killed, but there was also a strong chance that although they might be in trouble, they might not be dead. His internal decision was made.

"This news ruins all our plans," Bastila complained, perturbed.

"Not necessarily," Carth disagreed, "and I'd rather try to mount a rescue than go back to Gadon and say we didn't try. We already have the equipment we need to get to the Undercity, and I'd rather not meet Zaerdra right now." Oops, he hadn't meant to say that last part.

Pursing her lips, Bastila considered it. "Mission is, according to Gadon, the only one who can get us to the Vulkar Base Entrance," she remembered. "Oh, well," she sighed, "why not?"

With a satisfied smile, Carth brought out his datapad and checked the route to the Undercity elevator. Bastila pondered on the inanity of men, to be pleased with such inadequate victories, as she stepped calmly along behind him.

It took her a moment to catch her breath as her eyes suddenly caught the sight of a prime male specimen. She was not in the habit of scanning men for their looks, but it could hardly be avoided for this example. Armour clad feet and legs supported a chiselled, massive torso proudly displayed in a vest, bulging muscles spilling out of the arm holes and supporting a truly large assault rifle. The head was nothing major – somewhat aged and worse for wear – but those abs! Bastila mentally pinched herself for viewing a man as many men viewed women.

Beside her Carth stiffened. He had not gone through all those years fighting in the Mandalorian Wars not to recognise a Mandalorian when he saw one. And Mandalorians were not good news. His muscles immediately tensed further, preparing for battle.

The Mandalorian was approaching a company of four unhurriedly. One of the four was being heckled by the other three, but this person was unruffled. He merely glanced at the direction the Mandalorian was travelling from and leered at the others. The others followed his look and promptly paled.

"C-canderous? I didn't know you were around," one of the three mumbled.

"Well, I am. And I'm currently collecting Davik's bad debts," the gladiatorial warrior growled.

"But-but-but there's no problems here! We're just about to give Rakeesh the money! Here you are, Rakeesh!" in his hurry, the credits spilled from his money pouch to the ground. He dropped and scrabbled around, picking them up and blowing on them to dislodge dirt, and handed them over to Rakeesh in a show of ceremony, as if to save face.

"I knew you guys would see reason," gloated Rakeesh, counting the credits and stowing them in a bag.

"Too bad. I was looking forward to cracking some heads," Canderous replied dryly, and then stared at Carth and Bastila, noticing them for the first time.

"Maybe next time," Rakeesh dismissed him. "I'll call you if I need you again."

Canderous sneered at his back and returned to his observation of the pilot and the Jedi. He sniggered as Carth deliberately caressed his near sided blaster, giving Canderous a pointed look. The Mandalorian intentionally mocked him, running a hand over his own large assault rifle, and giving the soldier a derisive wink. He then promptly forgot about him and left, remembering some more distasteful things he was required to do for his boss.

Carth watched him carefully as he disappeared into another corridor. "That was… unpleasant. He was a Mandalorian warrior, I know that much. And very dangerous."

"Mmm, yes," Bastila agreed in a strange tone, causing Carth to look at her in surprise.

He then wondered how much he actually knew about Bastila.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: I thought it was a dirty trick of Gadon to leave them to discover and deal with the Rancor on their own, though he must have had knowledge of it due to that 'arm' they find came from a Bek sent to deal with the Rancor. It was also pretty stupid, because they couldn't back out if they wanted to rescue Bastila, and they were less prepared to solve the situation. Here, my Gadon is setting Carth and Bastila up to win. He needs them to. And about the chance cube – I think that's what that weird alien that owned Anakin had. Like a dice. I think. Seen the movie once. Tell me if I'm wrong. Say 'opaque pink-purple paste' six times fast! I believe the 'chemical castration' is not original, I'm pretty sure I've read it in another fanfic. And who needs to meet Mission in Javyar's anyway? It should take even her some time to get into trouble! And Bastila has a teeny weeny tiny crush on Canderous's body, not Canderous himself. That would be even more weird than pairing her with Carth – Canderous has been fighting for 'forty of your years' which is longer than Carth is alive – even if Canderous had started when he was twelve (highly unlikely in my opinion) he'd be at least 52 years old. Nicely preserved, though, and forecasts well for Carth's longevity if that's the norm! So she might ogle his body guiltily, but the moment Candy opens his mouth, she's in full Jedi mode again. **

**And another thing – I've just had a look at Wookieepedia to make sure I'm correct about some things. Did you know how many planets are in the Star Wars universe?? A lot! I can't promise everything will be correct, but if I know of some errors, I will try to correct them. Right now I'm a little mind blown. And peeved. Apparently there are FOUR levels to Taris, as well as the Upper City, the Lower City, and the Undercity, there is also the Middle City. It wasn't in the game!**


	6. Descent Into Hell

**Chapter Six:** **Descent into Hell**

Revan had removed the bandage from her eyes days ago. Her vision hadn't improved much, as there was only artificial lighting available, and apparently she didn't deserve that, but she enjoyed seeing the tiny pinpricks of light filtering between the cracks of the door as it assured her that she hadn't gone blind. Despite the fact that some Jedi referred to normal sight as 'crude matter' and were openly derisive of 'flesh', Revan prized her human sight more than her Jedi senses.

She was also terribly bored. She could no longer sing, her throat having become abrasive and sore from overuse, but she didn't repine overly because of that, for her captors had decided they didn't need to watch her any more. Half of the fun had gone when she could no longer irritate an enemy.

It was hard to find an occupation to divert herself. She had tried cataloguing through her various Force powers to see if there were any that she could use while under the influence of the neural disruptor, but had gotten seriously frustrated and considerably electrified before she was halfway through her list. She had never been one for exercise, and although she sometimes enjoyed telling herself stories, she had always preferred to do so in meditation, which would always add a healthy boost to her imagination. Naturally, meditation was impossible with a neural disruptor. She briefly wondered if the point was to make her go mad, but decided that no one was stupid enough to want a crazy Jedi about.

So, with untold eons alone stretching out in front of her, Revan turned her thoughts to the last remaining task she could think of: escape. Sure, an uninterrupted sleep was a nice plus, but this really was too much of a good thing.

Revan had always had a quick and enquiring mind – pretty much the only thing quick about her. She had never made a study of neural disruptors, but she spent the next few hours trying to build one in her head, trying out different ideas and things. Then she sent out the smallest Force Perception she could manage, focusing on the circlet around her neck. The information she gathered was certainly worth the few shocks she received in return. She could recognise certain components from their shape and discern their function from that, their location and the ideas she had hypothesized in her head.

As far as she could see, if she was to escape, she needed to defuse the power of her neural disruptor. She was worse than helpless with it – she had an idea that it could be controlled via remote, as evidenced by her sudden loss of consciousness when talking to Brejik. She was fairly sure she didn't suffer from narcolepsy.

But if she completely destroyed the neural disruptor, it seemed a cinch that the controller would be alerted. She doubted she would be ready to travel immediately after her efforts. She believed that her only chance would be to fuse the area responsible for the shock treatment, and somehow leave the rest untouched. It would require a figuratively light hand and immense willpower. Revan decided she'd give it a go anyway. At least she wouldn't be bored.

She concentrated slowly, building up her power and protecting it and her will from the shocks that were twitching her body. She couldn't manage this much longer, but she added an extra surge and the room lit up briefly with a sudden web of lightning. There was a muffled thump as she slumped back down to the ground, completely unconscious.

**(&X&)**

With the Sith files as their passports, Carth and Bastila had no trouble at the elevator to the Undercity. They were both mildly creeped out by the guard who bade them enjoy the weather and gave them a tongue in cheek reminder not to feed the wildlife. Bastila gave him an openly wondering look as they entered the elevator.

"Of all the Sith I can't stand the most, it's the cheerful type," grimaced Carth after the doors slid shut. "They're just so much more…wrong."

"I suppose we should be grateful to the Sith for broadening our views on the varying shades of evil," Bastila pondered as the lift vibrated into action and started the plummet ground-ward.

Carth snorted and continued with the weird conversation. _Well, it was going to be a long, boring trip to the Undercity._ "That would be handy if I wanted to write a dissertation on the subject."

She sniggered a little at the thought of a scholarly Carth, and replied aimlessly, "That would be a subject filled with ethical and philosophical issues. You could spend decades on it."

"I have better things to do with my time than spend it thinking about the Sith," he said with revulsion.

"Like what?" Bastila asked, and then wished she'd shut her mouth.

He paused, and then forced a light tone. "Well, saving the galaxy, for one."

"You could spend several lifetimes with that goal and still not achieve it," she sighed, not sure if her words were directed at him or herself.

"It's a good thing there are so many of us trying, then," he returned casually, wishing for something to put an end to the subject.

Bastila racked her brain to think of other things to say. She realised, not for the first time, that she had very few things in common with Carth. Their aims for the galaxy were similar. They wanted to help people. They believed the Sith were evil and needed to be stopped. But there was really nothing else. What else could she talk about? Music? Bastila had no time for such things. Travel? She supposed there was that, but Carth didn't seem like the type to rhapsodise over nature's beauties, and to talk of such things on Taris made her physically uncomfortable. Careers? She could pilot a small ship, but never took much pleasure in it. She could talk quite eloquently about meditation and various training exercises, but she would rather suffer through silence than try to coach Carth in the first steps of self-awareness. Mutual acquaintances? She knew Admiral Dodonna and several of Carth's associates, but she had never encouraged personal exchanges and quite frankly wouldn't know what to say. And Carth wouldn't know any of her superiors; even though Revan and he had been on the same ship, Revan had kept to her room at all times.

A sudden discreet cough alerted her once again to the present. "Have you any ideas about what we should do in the Undercity?" Carth questioned.

Oh, yes. They could talk about what they were going to do. "We need to find Mission and her companion," Bastila reiterated thoughtfully. "Gadon spoke of… a _village_ in which the elevator is located. Perhaps we could ask around. If Mission uses the elevator, they should surely know something."

Carth nodded. "And you'll be fine with that thing? It isn't your lightsaber, but we really can't risk it."

She hefted the Echani brand in her hand and pressed her lips together. No, she would _not_ complain again that she wanted her lightsaber. "Yes, the brand is excellently made. I practised extensively with a double bladed sword before wielding my double bladed 'saber, so I am confident I can keep us safe."

"Good," he replied noncommittally. He would _not _get in a fight with her in an elevator about who could protect who. Carth had relearned the value of employing silence to preserve the peace. But silence wasn't exactly comfortable right now.

"So, do you use Echani techniques, or strictly Jedi moves?" The rest of the ride down was ignored as they had a pleasant talk about different melee styles and techniques, though Bastila often played the 'Jedi is better so there' card. Carth was content to allow her the supremacy in the argument – he could fight melee, but preferred his blasters. So with the concealed superiority complex of the marksman over the martial warrior, he lent an ear to Bastila's eulogies about Jedi skills and retained his own opinions.

When the door slid open and exposed them to the air of the Undercity, Carth's only ordered thought was _well, Taris has hit a new low, and I didn't even think that was possible._ Like a rotten fruit, it seemed the more you stripped Taris to see what it concealed, the more disgusted you were. Suffice to say that the Undercity was dank, dark, and the more you saw of it, the more you wanted to forget what you saw.

Bastila had assimilated all of this, but she noticed the pitiful fires and tents of the poor souls eking out a living. Her compassion was stirred, although not to the extent that she couldn't help shrinking a little when two filthy representatives shambled up to her. Their odour was truly offensive – obviously, bathing facilities here in the Undercity were rare, or non-existent.

"You there! Upworlder! You must pay a toll, this is _our _elevator!" one of them growled, holding out a hand bandaged in rags.

"I can't believe this planet," Carth groused quietly, "even the beggars are trying to shake us down!"

"Who… who are you?" questioned Bastila.

The first one launched into a spiel. "We are the Outcasts, banished and reviled by those who dwell above!"

The other one continued on, his voice much more sincere. "Here in the filth and darkness we claw out a wretched existence, scavenging and begging just to survive long enough to see another wretched day."

"Oh, my," Bastila murmured, reaching back to Carth. "Give me some money."

"What? We don't have much as it is," he quietly refused.

Whatever else the Undercity bred, it apparently bred good hearing. "Oh, come on, we all know how rich you upworlders are," the first one whined. "You wouldn't miss five credits."

"Yes, we would," Carth shot back, his stubbornness roused.

"No, we wouldn't," Bastila snapped, gesturing imperiously.

"Stella, we're really low on funds," Carth warned her.

"Take a look around," Bastila said, veiling the hostility in her voice. "Are we really that badly off?"

Carth sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Fine," he growled, digging a five credit piece out of a pocket and handing it to her.

Bastila immediately turned around and deposited the chit in the second beggar's palm.

"Credits! We have credits, my brother," he crooned, hugging the precious item to his chest.

"Quiet! Or the others will hear and they'll want our credits!" the other cautioned, "We must hide it!" and slinking off again. Bastila was torn between feeling sorry for them and despising them for their animalistic caching instincts. An unwelcome memory bobbed up in her mind: on a rough planet, not unlike Taris, Revan had cautioned her against giving a beggar a donation. Bastila didn't believe her ears, and supposing it to be a test, had gone ahead and gave the beggar money. Directly afterward, Revan took Bastila aside and followed him, showing her the consequences of her actions: in this instance, the beggar she had helped was mugged and robbed, left to bleed in a corner. Bastila didn't ask Revan how she knew what would happen – she didn't care. She had honestly hated Revan at that moment. She still wondered what Revan meant by it.

They proceeded further into the village, the ground uncomfortably moist underneath their feet. Carth kept his composure only by comparing the place to a battlefield. There were times when he was bitterly disappointed by human nature, and the Republic.

They found the leader of the Outcasts, a serious man who otherwise reminded Carth of Gadon Thek. He was pointed out to them by a man aged by hardship and starvation. Bastila, consumed by pity, offered the man some of their meagre supply of food, but Carth forbore to scold her when the man refused, presenting the information, "My wife was taken by the rakghouls. I can only hope that she is dead. I cannot bear to think of the alternative…"

"Greetings, upworlders," the leader of the Outcasts said in the middle of the silence following, "I am Gendar, leader of this village, as my father was and his father before him. What brings you to our dark and sunless place?"

"No offence, but I can understand why people tend to avoid this place," Carth said.

"Carth! I apologise for him, sir, he is afflicted with a serious condition!" Bastila said, giving Carth an outraged look.

"Hey! What?" Carth said, clueless.

"I understand what your friend means," Gendar said dismissively. "If there is something I can help you with, I will give you information at least, even if I can give you no material help."

"We're searching for a blue Twi'lek girl named Mission Vao, accompanied by a Wookiee," Carth replied.

"I have seen the Twi'lek you mention," Gendar admitted, "though we have never spoken. She usually passes through the village on her explorations with the Wookiee."

"She came here last night," Carth said urgently, "did you see her come back?"

"I didn't personally," Gendar mused, "maybe some of my fellow Outcasts did. I will check around and inform you when I am done." Gendar left them with a troubled look on his face and proceeded to visit some other villagers, either in their cloth homes or where they sat, stood or worked.

"Well, that leaves us unoccupied," Bastila said with dissatisfaction.

"Then, maybe, Upworlder," came a dim, quavery voice from the interior of a tent behind them, "you could listen to my story?"

"Who is that?" Bastila spoke with authority.

"It is I, Rukil, the oldest outcast in the village. Rukil Wrinkleskin, the children call me sometimes. Once I was honoured for my wisdom. And you… are you the herald of prophecy? Do you damn us or save us?" Shuffling into the light was an ancient old man covered in patched up rags. Everything about him was faded and dull, apart from the light glittering in his eyes. That same light made Carth somewhat nervous.

"Be careful. This guy might be crazy enough to be dangerous," Carth said warily.

Bastila scoffed for a moment. As if the old man could possibly be a danger to her, with her abilities! Then she took the time to look at him, and quietly tapped into the Force to reveal truths and deception. "I sense… no danger in him," she said quietly to Carth. "His demeanor may seem crazed, but there is a purpose behind it. A benevolent one."

"I save what I can," she replied respectfully to Rukil, "but I cannot perceive how my fate is linked with yours and your village. Please, sir, explain yourself."

"Can I trust you? Can I place the fate of the entire village in your unknown hands?" Rukil looked at her and Bastila sensed he was about to refuse.

"Rukil, I _can_ be trusted," she said, impressing the Force into her words. Carth shifted uncomfortably next to her. He was pretty sure he'd prefer being bored than this.

Rukil blinked his rheumy eyes. "I can trust you. The fate of my people is contained in their history.

"The great city of Taris covers the entire surface of the planet. There are no farms on the ground, only buildings. For many years, kelp harvests and the creatures of the sea were the only food source. A century ago, rising toxic pollution poisoned the oceans, and famine swept the planet. The rich hoarded the food for their own use, and the poor were left to starve and die. But the poor rose up against this tyranny, and civil war engulfed the planet. Millions died during the fighting, and huge sections of Taris were destroyed or abandoned.

"In the end, the rebellion was crushed. Thousands were taken prisoner, far too many for any jail to hold. So the practise of banishing all prisoners to the Undercity was born. And so we live down here, devoid of all hope, bar one: the Promised Land, and you will lead us there!" Rukil ended triumphantly.

Bastila was speechless for a moment. Unfazed, Rukil continued his story.

"Legends tell of a self sufficient colony deep below the Undercity, founded shortly before the famine, and lost during the Civil War. A paradise where droid servants supply every need. For many years, I searched for the Promised Land, as did my father and grandfather before me. When I became old and grey, my apprentice continued the search on my behalf."

Rukil sighed a moment and shook his head. "Malya, my apprentice, was found dead some weeks ago, killed in her pursuit for knowledge. She did not die in vain, however, and her journal, which holds crucial evidence was returned to me. After all these years, I am _that_ close to the Promised Land!"

Curious, Bastila asked him, "What do you wish me to do?"

"Bastila!" Carth exclaimed. "We're on our own mission here, if you don't remember!"

"This is a chance to help the Outcasts!" Bastila replied passionately.

"And we have a small window of opportunity to help Mission, to rescue your Master, and save the galaxy," Carth retorted compellingly. "We don't have a lifetime, Bastila."

"I…" for a moment, Bastila closed her eyes. The rush of a multitude of feelings that had overwhelmed her that day with Revan and the beggars cascaded over her once again, and her heart became heavy within her. "You're right." With a sigh, she turned to Rukil, and told him, "I'm sorry."

Rukil cocked his head to the side and chuckled wheezily. "We can decide, but that doesn't always mean we choose."

"Let's wait over here," Carth said, drawing Bastila away. She began to take out ties and fix her hair more securely. Carth thought that the twin tails were a bit immature, but remembered her age and temper and remained silent. He hoped things would be a bit more steady once they rescued her Master, but judging Revan purely by her student, he wasn't feeling optimistic.

Gendar came up after some minutes and looked solemn. "I can say with absolute certainty that your Twi'lek friend did not come back either yesterday or today," he said without preamble. "She is still in out in the wastelands of the Undercity, or possibly in the sewers – a few of the villagers have had conversations with her and told me that the sewers are what she was exploring last."

Rukil's raspy chuckle came from behind them as he hobbled closer. Carth turned around and gave him a look, _what, you're still here?_ Bastila was getting distinctly uneasy. She had thought that some of the Jedi Masters were a little bit… shall we say, unorthodox? But she would have welcomed them now.

"You must go into the sewers. I knew that before. My grandfather and father… knew, and my apprentice knew."

"Rukil," Gendar said reprovingly, "no more of your fairy stories. Haven't you done enough damage?"

"I tell truth, young Gendar," Rukil said reproachfully. "They must go into the sewers, and find the journals. The journals my father and grandfather died for."

"This talk of the Promised Land sounds like a myth to me," Carth accused him, "something to keep up the false hope of the villagers, something they can dream about to escape the harsh realities of this existence."

"It is no false hope, upworlder," Rukil insisted doggedly.

"Stop pestering the upworlder, Rukil," Gendar rebuked gently, as to a child.

"After one hundred years of life, I am not worthy of respect, Gendar?"

As the situation seemed likely to devolve and prolong things further, Carth intervened and said, "We're for the sewers now. If we find your things, Rukil, we'll bring them back when we can. Thank you very much for your help Gendar. We have to go now. That's the gate, right?"

With an understanding look, Gendar nodded. Without looking back, Carth and Bastila made for the gateway to the Undercity, the portal between the thick walls surrounding the village. The guard who sat their on guard and who was responsible for the traffic in and out seemed nervous. Carth supposed he would be too in his position. Digging in his backpack, he handed Bastila one vision enhancing visor, and slipped the other over his eyes.

As they stepped out past the gateway and heard the gate snap back into position, both of them were plagued by uneasy sensations. The hairs on the back of Carth's neck stood up and prickled, while an irrepressible shiver ran down Bastila's spine.

It didn't help when strange unidentifiable howls rang from the Outlands. Carth was a brave soldier, but he swallowed convulsively and gripped his blasters tightly before loosing his hold slightly. Bastila wished she had time to slip into a meditation. She did allow the Force to run over her skin and into her muscles for a moment, but she was feeling so unsettled the Force just seemed to scald her slightly.

Carth checked his datapad, glancing up uncomfortably from time to time. "The sewer entrance is up that way," he gestured to the right with his right hand blaster. That was where some of the shrieks had come from.

They were quiet as they advanced slowly, each trying to be careful and silent as they stepped over the moist Tarisian dirt. Bastila's face wavered as she smelt a scorched, acrid smell. Carth halted her with the back of his hand. "Fuel," he whispered, and pointed his blaster ahead at some scoring in the earth, a single line that went from shallow and thin to deep and wide – slightly wider than an escape pod. Carth inhaled sharply and took off at a jog, following the sign in the dirt while scanning for threats. "I can't go past this," he muttered, almost to himself.

Bastila followed awkwardly, her body skewed around to check that they could not be attacked without warning from behind. This made it difficult for her to spot and avoid the various mounds of dirt and piles of debris the Tarisian earth had accumulated over decades, if not hundreds of years. She tripped into the scorched valley, her boots crunching the heat-damaged soil, before jumping back out.

The unearthly screams did not stop. There was a pack of hungry somethings out there.

Then Bastila heard another noise, one that did not fit. It was Carth, who shouted. He saw a lone figure sprawled on the ground, some distance in front of a huge cylinder. As they advanced quickly, the cylinder revealed itself to be an escape pod, hatch open and gaping.

"Is he breathing?" Bastila gasped, as Carth bent down and felt for a pulse.

"Yes, he is, but very fast, and his pulse is galloping," Carth muttered, peeling the injured soldier's eyelid back.

Trying to catch her breath, not so much from fatigue as from sudden stress, Bastila scanned as much of the surrounding terrain as possible, before regarding the wounded man. His once pristine Republic Ensign's uniform was in tatters, barely protecting his modesty. Through the gaps of the fabric, Bastila could see gaping wounds, scratched flesh and quite a lot of blood. She tried to stop herself from feeling ill. She had never been on the front lines – she always waged her war from a distance.

"Heads up!" Carth's voice rang out, as he could see some hazy grey smudges moving on the edge of the visible terrain. Bastila clutched her brand tightly, and as the silvery blurs came closer, gave herself up to the Force again, enduring the mild scald on her senses as it settled into accustomed channels in her muscles and nerves.

She was hazily aware, in some dim corner of her mind, that Carth was cursing pretty luridly and from that alone could tell he was really worried. When a target came up, for that was all it was, a target, she looked not at appearance but how to defeat it. Anything else would have to come later.

And then – it was over.

Bastila looked up as Carth grabbed her shoulders. "Are you okay? Did they bite you?" Bastila managed to shake her head. She always felt so stupid and slow when she withdrew from the Force. She focussed on Carth's person. He wasn't damaged either, for a wonder. Her eyes caught the sight of five new figures sprawling on the ground; these, however, were a silvery grey colour, and naked.

With a gasp, Bastila pulled herself up and staggered back, glancing around wildly. "Where's the soldier? The injured man? Did they take him?"

Carth looked up from his perusal of the ground. "We were attacked by only four rakghouls at first, Bastila." She hadn't noticed before, but his complexion was pale, and … was that vomit?

Only four rakghouls? What did he mean?

"He changed, Bastila. The survivor – he changed in front of my eyes. Dammit, and I'd thought I'd seen it all." He huffed out a laugh. "He must have been bitten when he was attacked the first time. He changed, and then charged at you. You put him down without a second look – he'd have got me, if he'd tried it." Carth sighed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "That's a neat trick you have. Wish I could do that."

_You know not what you wish for,_ Bastila thought, hiding her horror. To have done things without the memory of it – she suddenly thought that she would be more saving with how she used that particular technique.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Firstly, all my reviewers are AWESOME. There is not a good enough word to describe them.**

**Is it just me or were you offended by Kreia's slights at normal sight? I have to wear glasses, and the first day I got them I was enraptured by everything I couldn't see clearly before. My Revan has simple tastes – she likes colours, too. And sorry if I misused 'Force Perception', if indeed it already exists, but really, what else can you call it?? I have two explanations why Revan doesn't die. One, she's used to electricity, and Two, the collar was designed to elicit pain, but certainly not kill. Dead slaves are worth nothing. There would be safeguards against that. Okay, I guess I am lame. But please suspend your disbelief! This is fiction, and fanfiction at that. **

**And in the game, who did you want to kill more, Jorak Uln or Uthar Wynn? I would have liked a more 'creative' way to destroy Jorak. Still, with a cheat (to boost my Dark Side) I could totally frustrate him on that last question. That was sweet.**

**And Kreia was indeed my Revan's first Master, as you can deduce from the chapter. She evidently absorbed some of her lessons. I hated that part in Kotor II, but I'm pretty sure I understand its lesson: every action, right or wrong, has consequences. Maybe Revan thought Bastila too naïve and needed to show her some of the darkness in the galaxy. Or did she just want to alienate the girl and shake up her composure for sport? She may not be a Sith Lord, but she does have a mean streak.**

**I was going to skip the whole rakghoul serum & Promised Land stuff, but I didn't think Bastila would pass up that sort of thing. I once read a fic that had Mission find the journals the day before, and they never met the Outcasts. Though I would love to do that too, it would be copying! The only thing I'm trying to outright copy here is the game, and I'm trying to make that different, too. And when I first played the game, I tried to do as much as I could on Taris, and when it was destroyed, I thought it might have been because I took too long. (Stupid of me, I know.) But if you put that into a real life situation, that is something that would be considered, no?**

**How Bastila fights is just a thing I made up. It's influenced a bit by what I've read about Force Rage – but it's the Light Side version. She uses it because *gasp* she's not the best at physical combat. For a Jedi, that is. Why I put it in? Dunno. Just something to write, I guess.**

**So, have anything to complain about? Talk about? Review about? Review if you have anything at all to say. I wouldn't mind criticism. (I think it would probably be merited. This has not really been my best). I will reply to each one. I do anyway.**


	7. Hell’s Basement – or Sewer

**Chapter Seven:** **Hell's Basement – or Sewer**

While Bastila took a moment to compose herself, Carth busied himself by satisfying his curiosity. _Know your enemy… I had to learn that lesson the hard way._ He found a shaft of rusty steel half buried in the earth, which he uncovered and used to prod the rakghoul corpse that was mostly whole. They were truly horrific creatures, secreting an oily substance all over their skin, making them glisten.

They were not entirely hairless, but what hair remained on their bodies had been somehow corrupted and coarsened. The sinewy arms and legs resembled that of a primate, with long nails on the fingers that narrowed into claws. The skin was rippled and puckered from distortions in the skeletal frame, the jaws had somehow widened and were framed by a jagged row of teeth. Carth wasn't quite curious enough to open the mouth and see where the venom was secreted. As he reluctantly prodded the corpse over, his nostrils were invaded by a noxious smell. The rakghouls were already decomposing, perhaps had been for some time. The 'life' expectancy for a rakghoul probably wasn't very long at all.

"It's both hard to believe, and entirely too credible, that these things once were human," Bastila said softly behind him.

"We'd better get moving," Carth said, unwilling to discuss things further. He checked their position on his datapad, and started moving in the direction of the sewer entrances. "Keep an eye out, we don't want to miss any sign of Mission."

Bastila nodded in answer. They advanced as quietly as they could, remaining as alert as possible. They travelled like that for perhaps half an hour, halting sometime in the middle of that to sight and evade a Sith patrol complete with a red suited Sith commander.

"They're still searching for survivors," Carth whispered to Bastila, "They don't want to leave anything to chance."

"That's an entire Sith squad," Bastila noted, "We'd be hard pressed to survive a confrontation."

"Which is why we're going to avoid them," responded Carth bitterly. It went hard on him that he had to let the Sith go.

After a while they could tell they were heading for the sewers when the atmosphere became steadily more pungent. When Carth stopped at a detachable grate set into a wall, blocking entrance to the sewers, Bastila had to stop and wipe the tears from her eyes, making efforts not to be overpowered. She watched Carth unlatch the grate and swing it on its hinges. She stopped him by touching his arm briefly.

"With the Force I can make a small sphere that can filter unpleasant chemicals from the air. It works on odours as well as poisonous fumes and gases. I can't keep it up for long, but if we get into combat don't be surprised if you can breathe easier."

Carth looked surprised but willing to go along with it. "I'm really not looking forward to going down there," he admitted, gesturing to the hole in the wall. He then almost fell back when someone popped up and out of the hole.

"Hey, wait!" the girl cried as she looked into the muzzles of Carth's blasters.

"Carth, put your weapons down," Bastila instructed immediately, recovering first. "Are you Mission?" she asked, noting the girl's species, Twi'lek, and her blue skin tone.

"Yeah, but that's not important. You're not Sith, I know that much, and you're not Outcasts. You've got good weapons, so you must be salvagers. You have to help me! We can't leave him down there all alone!" Mission cried, a few distraught tears cascading down her little pointed face.

Holstering his blasters, Carth jerked his head towards a nearby horizontal concrete pillar where they could all sit. "Come over here, a moment. We've been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Mission faltered, her eyes darting from Bastila to Carth.

"We need your help, Mission," Bastila stated calmly.

Mission sized them up silently for a moment. She drew a deep breath and then spoke in a determined voice, "I do whatever you want, _after_ you help me rescue Big Z."

"Rescue who?" blinked Bastila.

"Big Z. Zaalbar. He's my friend."

"Oh, the Wookiee," nodded Carth, enlightened.

"Yes, _Zaalbar_," Mission emphasized. She hated it when people referred to her friend by his species. It was just like when she was referred to as 'the blue Twi'lek girl.' It somehow de-characterized you.

"Okay," Carth agreed, accepting her unspoken reproval and her deal. "How did you two get separated?"

"Me and Zaalbar were mucking around down there, you know? Looking for what we could find. We do it all the time. But this time… the Gamorrean slavers were waiting for us. I guess all they wanted was Big Z all along, because you know how popular Wookiee slaves are…" her voice wavered a little.

"We'll get him back, one way or another," Carth promised. When Mission's astonished eyes met his, he chuckled ruefully and admitted, "I met Zaerdra."

She blushed in embarrassment, head down. Then she looked up again, and said, "That means you must have met Gadon. Zaerdra's never far from Gadon ever, and now with the gang war and the Sith she's like his second skin."

"Gadon sent us down here to get into the Black Vulkar base, but we were supposed to pick you up at the cantina. When you weren't there, everybody assumed you'd been killed down here, and so we came down, hoping to find you… well, alive," Carth explained.

"You're gonna attack the Vulkars?" Mission cried, her eyes lighting up. "Ooh, I gotta be in on that one. But Zaalbar first, okay? You can't get to the Vulkars without me."

"Deal," acquiesced Carth. "How many Gamorreans are we going to be dealing with, by the way?"

Mission's face screwed up in thought. "Maybe a dozen. Not all at once, either. I know my way really well down there. I used to creep in stealth everywhere, and though Zaalbar's not really sneaky, we mapped out almost the entire area, and we can avoid the biggest groups of slavers and rakghouls."

"You have a stealth belt?" Carth enquired.

Mission rolled her eyes, pantomiming 'duh.'

"That'll come in handy," Carth continued, ignoring Mission's attitude. "You can sneak ahead of us a little and warn us of what's coming. Just stay well out of the fights, okay?"

"Hey! I'm good enough to fight!"

"Maybe," Carth said, highly doubting his words, "but you're certainly not old enough!"

"What?!" Mission's voice rose. "Who you do you think you are, you bossy old snark-face!"

"He's Carth Onasi, Mission," Bastila interrupted before Carth could snap back, "and my name is Bastila Shan."

Distracted by this, Mission questioned, "You have different last names?"

"Yes," Bastila replied, puzzled. "What's so strange about that?"

Mission shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. I just thought he was your father, is all."

Carth promptly turned his back to her, holding his head in his hands. Bastila's manner iced up considerably as she retorted, "He most certainly is not! I don't know why anyone would think that!"

Thinking, Mission said, "I guess it's the way you act about each other. No need to get all huffy about it." Mission pushed herself off the concrete block. "Now, if you two elderly folks have finished catching your breath, we've got a Wookiee to rescue!" Mission walked briskly towards the sewer entrance. "Whatcha waiting for? We ain't got much time!"

Fairly certain that if he opened his mouth the fires of hell would consume him (or the Taris equivalent thereof) Carth trudged silently to the entrance. He thanked whatever was responsible for the fact that either his senses were dulled, or he was getting used to the smell. It forced only a few tears to his eyes, which he was able to repress without much effort. Mission hopped through the aperture before him, cautioning him about the slipperiness of the rungs of the ladder on which they were about to descend. He found purchase for his hands and feet quite easily, and was down and on the grated floor before he knew it. A muffled thump as Bastila's boots hit the metal told him she had followed him quickly.

As far as he could tell, the sewers of Taris were comprised of duracrete, absolute filth, and metal, in that order. Every now and then dribbly water would tumble down from the numerous pipe openings dotting the ceilings of the tunnels. Carth wasn't sure if he wanted to know what made the water glow green.

Mission fell back behind him to Bastila. "So, tell me – how did Zaerdra threaten Carth? Did she say she'd cut off his ears and shove them up his nose? She once threatened a guy with a knife that she'd take it away and replace his backbone with it. She also said she'd kick his balls up through his eye sockets."

"Mission!" Bastila chided, blushing. "This is not an appropriate conversation!"

"Hey, I'm just trying to further my education here," Mission defended. "So, come on, what did she say?"

"I'm not quite sure," Bastila admitted. "She just said things would go missing. It was rather elliptical, I thought, and not at all deserving of the caution Carth treats it."

"You really need to read between the lines, Bassy," Mission sniggered, "She was threatening his 'manhood'."

Bastila bit her lip and didn't reply. She was pretty certain her countenance was flushed, however. As if she would even think about Carth's… no, don't even go there. _Oh, for peaceful Dantooine plains._

Blissfully ignorant of the conversation behind him, Carth had scouted out several of the tunnels ahead and pronounced them clear. Coming back to Mission, he realised anew how dependent they were on her; he had no map of the sewers. "Now…" he began.

"I'm just gonna go ahead here," Mission said blithely, interrupting him. "You'll hear me whistle. Low whistle means stay where you are. High whistle means come on." As Carth was about to object, she fizzled into invisibility via her stealth field generator belt and the two adults had no alternative but to follow her plan.

Not that he would admit it, but Mission hurried them through the corridors better than many covert operations soldiers he had worked with. When he caught sight of the back of a Gamorrean guard after Mission had smuggled them behind a corner to wait for the right moment to move again, he reacquainted himself with all the reasons he hated fighting with aliens with superior body mass and muscle. They might have only small brains, and speak in the most irritating squeals and whistles, _and_ be uglier than sin, but they were over two meters tall, heavy set, and just looking at one holding an enormous weapon such as their axes or clubs could make a grown man tremble in fear. If he and Bastila were going to be successful, they would need to work on them one at a time together. It was a good thing he had managed to pick up some grenades. They might make all the difference.

He wanted to growl at Mission when she told them to crawl through an empty pipe in the wall, but reminded himself that Mission knew what she was doing. He was thankful for his forbearance when they found themselves crawling on hands and knees on a small platform raised three metres off the ground through a room that was swarming with rakghouls. Bastila stifled a shriek when the rakghouls saw prey hovering over their heads and snarling and screaming, tried to reach them.

"Keep all appendages away from the edges," Mission sang out with macabre humour.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," muttered Bastila.

"Huh? Whatcha talking about?" Mission queried from in front.

"It's a poem," Carth offered, willing Bastila to keep quiet. "Blank verse, you know."

"That's the stuff that doesn't rhyme, right?" Mission asked. "To my mind, if it doesn't rhyme and isn't a translation, it isn't a poem."

"Do you know a lot about literature?" Bastila probed, irritated.

"I know a heck of a lot of stuff. That's why you're out of reach of the rakghouls right now, and not their snack food," Mission answered tartly.

Carth closed his eyes momentarily and hoped that Bastila didn't retort, 'A Jedi is never snack food.'

"And we are properly grateful," Bastila returned coolly.

"Thanks for telling me that, or I would have never figured that out," Mission countered.

By this time, they were at the end of the platform. Mission stood up delicately and reached her hands for a hold on the ladder bolted to the wall. "We go up here, there's an old maintenance tunnel that goes, oh, so far, and then we crawl down, there's a room, and another tunnel, and then we have to be careful, because the head Gamorreans hang there. But that's where I think their prison rooms and armoury is."

"You think?" Bastila interrogated.

"Hey, I usually try to avoid the Gamorreans, not take 'em down," Mission shrugged.

"How will we enter the room?" interrupted Carth, once they were up the ladder and into the maintenance tunnel, where they could barely stand up.

"Through a grate," Mission shrugged. She plucked a tiny bottle from a vest pocket and showed it to him. "With a little oil on the hinges, it won't squeak, and…" she retrieved two spherical objects from her thigh pockets, "with these two stun grenades, you can get in and slashing before they know what's happening."

Carth admired her foresight before asking, "But that will make a lot of noise. Won't the other Gamorreans hear and come to help?"

"Nah, these tunnels are full of rakghouls and other stuff. The Gamorreans are used to fighting them all the time."

"But, just in case, we should stay alert," Bastila cautioned them.

Carth rolled his eyes before he realised what he was doing. He noticed Mission sneak a grin at him and scowled. The teenager was influencing him!

They made their way to the room behind the grate described by Mission. Creeping forward, Carth saw at least three elite Gamorrean warriors within, loitering around and making remarks in their strange language. As he watched, he saw an axe from the corner of his eye, and upon further scrutiny noted a heavily muscled green arm attached to it. So there was at least one, maybe two hidden in the side corners where he couldn't see them. He brought out the oil Mission had given him and squeezed the contents liberally over the hinges, after wiping some of the crap off. Crawling back to Bastila and Mission, he confided his findings.

"Maybe five Gamorreans, in a room with a few strongboxes. You're probably right – it does look like their armoury," he said to Mission.

Mission handed over the stun grenades, which he inspected briefly and held in one large hand. Then she reached her hand over her shoulder and detached the sturdy looking vibroblade strapped to her back. "You're pretty good with your blasters, I know, but you might need to deflect a blow or two," she explained. "Gamorreans are tough. The stun grenades will shock them, but they'll still be dangerous."

Touched, Carth accepted the blade in his left hand. Mission grabbed on to his arm and shook her head. "I wasn't finished. Give me your other blaster."

He recoiled. "What!"

"Not for keeps, you dummy," she whispered furiously. "I'll be behind you, in the tunnel, stealthed. I swear I won't join in the actual fighting, but give me a gun, and if I can get off a sure shot, I will. You'll need the help, you know." She glared at him, anticipating his reservations. "I can shoot, and hit what I aim at. I won't go trigger happy on you."

Reluctantly, Carth propped the vibroblade against the wall and slid his left side blaster pistol out of the holster. "Be careful," he muttered, handing it over.

"Chill, Carth. I won't scratch the finish," Mission snickered.

He shook a finger at her but forbore to say anything further. He needed to get into his battle mind now.

Bastila started to breathe rhythmically. She had never fought Gamorreans before this. The next ones would not be average, either. She deliberately fed the Force along her veins and muscles. _Force, guide me_.

Mission followed them up, creeping as silently as she knew how to. She held her breath as Carth reached the grill, swinging it out excruciatingly slowly. He readied each grenade with a practised twist that had her eyes narrowing, and flung them one to each side of the opening. Her obscured vision of the Gamorreans beyond nevertheless revealed that they had heard the tiny bombs bouncing on the ground, and were puzzled. The three interlopers pressed their hands to their ears and shut their eyes a few seconds before the stun grenades went off.

When she opened her eyes again, Mission was surprised to see Carth already out into the room and blasting away at the Gamorreans. Bastila was quickly out as well, and Mission briefly wondered how she managed to scramble out while still somehow looking graceful. Easing forward and prone on the floor of the tunnel, Mission held the blaster pistol in both hands, sighting down the barrel like Zaerdra had taught her for the best chance at hitting her target. Over the sights, she noted that two Gamorreans were already down, and the other three staggering around were being engaged by Bastila and Carth.

She was quite proud of her vibroblade when Carth blocked an axe with it and shot the Gamorrean in the chest. Somehow, that didn't stop the huge sentient and squealing indignantly, another, more powerful swing with an axe drove the vibroblade against Carth who fell to the ground.

Mission exhaled and squeezed the trigger, catching the Gamorrean in the eye and killing him instantly. Carth seemed to recover quickly and rolled over just in time to miss the hulking corpse crashing down. Without a backward glance, Carth began raking fire at one of the two Gamorreans aggressively swinging at Bastila, who somehow managed to move so quickly she was unharmed from countless blows aimed at her.

It was over soon. Bastila was tugging her Echani brand out of a Gamorrean corpse, Carth had laid Mission's vibroblade aside and started checking the wound on his shoulder, and Mission was hopping out into the room, to rifle through the strongboxes.

"They're probably locked," Carth began, when he saw her insert an instrument into the lock which soon opened with a chime. "Oh."

"That looks serious," Bastila noted, looking at his shoulder. She dropped her brand on the ground and came over, helping Carth get the top of his Echani armour off that shoulder. Carth was now looking acutely uncomfortable.

"Credits, grenades, computer spikes, a pazaak card…" catalogued Mission softly, shoving items into a soft bag she had secreted somewhere in her many pockets.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Carth demurred to Bastila, wishing she'd not touch him.

Bastila glared once at him, and noted crisply, "You are a part of this team. If you are injured, we are all weakened," and with that, she laid her hands on the warm skin either side of his wound and closed his eyes.

"Mission, help…" Carth whispered until he felt a strange tingling gathering at the site of his injury.

"Big Z's bowcaster!" Mission cheered, picking the weapon up in triumph. She turned around to tell the others, again, when she noticed that Carth's shoulder was glowing. Her eyes widened, and she nearly dropped Zaalbar's most prized possession.

By now, Carth was gritting his teeth a bit. This 'Force Healing' was not as painless as it sounded.

When Bastila slowly opened her eyes and removed her hands, she noted with satisfaction that there was now only a red mark around where the slash had been, and even that would fade within minutes. Carth was staring at it with wide eyes, and Mission's mouth was gaping.

"What the hell?" Mission gasped. Then she seemed to grab a hold of herself. "Okay, we have no time for explanations now, we need to find Big Z, but after we do, you'd better believe I'll have questions!"

"You'll get answers," promised Carth, donning the top of his armour again. He knew what Mission had done. He wouldn't trust her, completely, but he owed her.

Mission bit her lip. "I think the prison rooms are this way," she said, gesturing. She flicked her stealth generator on and scouted ahead like before. She led them to a door that jerked spasmodically and showered sparks. She frowned at it as if it was the door's fault it was out of commission. "I don't know how to get around," she admitted, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Looking her woebegone face, Carth tendered a suggestion to his diminutive task force. "How about we turn right, and then turn left after that? We might get around that way?"

"We don't have any other alternative," Bastila acknowledged, frowning.

They followed that course, which led to several unexpected encounters with patrolling Gamorreans, one pack of rakghouls, a corridor lined with mines and two dead ends, the last mentioned containing two corpses, clearly of Outcast origin. Shocking her companions, Mission had gone straight ahead and plundered the first of the corpses.

"What? They don't need it anymore," she pointed out practically.

"Mission, what's that?" Bastila asked, pointing at a datapad Mission had discarded quickly after its discovery.

"Um, it's a datapad. Information goes on it," Mission said, cocking an eyebrow.

"I know that," Bastila scowled, "what's on it?"

"Do you really want to invade dead people's secrets?" Mission gibed.

"Stop that," Bastila scolded her, picking up the device herself and acquainting herself with the contents. "Carth!"

"Yeah?" he said, looking up from cleaning Bastila's blade. She had been too disgusted to do it herself.

"It's a journal," Bastila said slowly, "about the Promised Land."

"What?" Carth said, walking over and glancing at the screen over her shoulder.

"Don't do that," Bastila warned.

"What?" Carth asked again, puzzled.

"Breathe on my neck. I like my personal space."

Carth repressed the urge to roll his eyes, _I wasn't the one with my hands on your skin,_ and positioning himself beside her, peered at the screen. "There's the whatsit with the whoseit? What use is this?"

"It's in code," explained Bastila. "We need to get this back to Rukil."

"You need to help me save Zaalbar," Mission interjected, panicked.

"We'll see Rukil after we save Zaalbar, raid the Vulkar Base, and get Revan, okay?" Carth sighed.

Bastila nodded, accepting her cleaned blade from his hand.

They had found another journal at the other dead end. This time Mission simply gave it to Bastila, who flicked through the files and pocketed it.

It was about a quarter hour afterward that they came to a strange looking door. Running her finger over the lock, Mission grinned. "You in there, buddy?" she yelled.

Carth and Bastila jumped back, startled, when a tremendous roar and two thumps answered her.

"Hang on," bellowed Mission, "you'll be out in no time!" She took yet another instrument out of her vest and fitted it gently into the lock.

"I am quite disturbed with how well she does that," Bastila confided to Carth.

"She's lived on the streets," Carth returned quietly. "You don't survive that without learning things."

With a click, the door surrendered and opened. Before their startled eyes, Mission was engulfed by a huge hairy thing.

"Oh, Big Z! I thought you were toast for sure!" Mission cried, hanging on to hunks of fur.

"Mission! You are safe, thank Bacca!" Zaalbar howled in Shyrriwook, the Wookiees' native language. Zaalbar's eyes fell on Mission's companions. "These people helped you find me? Who are they?"

Bastila stepped forward and bowed gracefully. "Greetings, Zaalbar. I am Bastila Shan, and this is my… this is Carth Onasi."

"Hold on a second," Carth said, holding up a hand. "You understand him?"

Mission shrugged a shoulder. "What's so hard about that?"

Bastila looked at Carth as she remarked casually, "My _gifts _allow me to understand many languages."

Remembering, Mission detached herself from Zaalbar and stood opposite Bastila, arms akimbo. "Then you'll have no trouble explaining things to me."

"Wait, Mission," Zaalbar pleaded, looking at Bastila. "These people helped how?"

"Well, Z, I found them in the Undercity. They were looking for me, sent by Gadon, so I told them about you, and they wouldn't let me fight, and I led them here," Mission enlightened him.

"They risked their lives for me," Zaalbar mused. He straightened and approached Bastila, whose composure faded a little at the tall creature standing less than two feet away from her with an obvious case of halitosis.

"Bastila Shan, the worst fate that a sentient can experience is being bound in slavery. But for your intervention, that would have been _my _fate. I am deeply grateful."

Bastila tried to shrug it off, trying to put her hand over her nose casually. "I was only too pleased, Zaalbar. Mission is going to help us."

"You risked your own life," Zaalbar insisted, "Far too many of my people are enslaved. It is something I feel deeply about. And in my culture, there is only one way I can make reparation. I will swear a life debt."

"Now, wait a moment, please," Bastila gasped.

"What is going on?" Carth asked, annoyed.

"A life debt?" questioned Mission, ignoring the others, "Are you sure you want to do that? It's a really big step to take."

"I am sure, Mission," the Wookiee answered. "Bastila Shan, I swear a life debt to you. I will honour you and guard you with my life, as long as we both live. May my vow be as solid and long lasting as the wroshyr trees on Kashyyyk."

As Bastila floundered in a morass of half-finished sentences, Carth moved closer to Mission and asked her, "Mission, what the hell is going on? I can't understand Zaalbar."

Whispering back, Mission confided, "He just vowed a life-debt to Bastila for helping save his life. To a Wookiee, a life-debt is the most solemn vow they can make. Basically, she's got a big bodyguard for life."

Carth took a moment to take this in. "And he didn't swear one to me?" he asked, not petulantly, but wonderingly, conscious that he had finally had some good luck.

"I guess Big Z thought it would be silly to do that when you'd need an interpreter all the time."

Slowly, Carth felt his infinitesimal smile widen. Mission saw and punched him lightly. "Don't demean the life-debt, it's really serious stuff."

Eventually, Bastila understood that she was completely, and irrevocably trapped. Then Mission got both Carth and Zaalbar's attention, by saying, "Wherever Big Z goes, I go. So you're stuck with me now."

_Why has the universe gone mad? _Bastila wondered. _Who ever heard of a Jedi with a Wookiee guardian and a teenaged twi'lek?_

Her day was made complete by Mission continuing, "Okay, now. You all have some explaining to do."

**Author's Notes and Explanations: What is a snark-face? I have no idea! It just sounded good. I'm sorry I made Mission a little vulgar, but, after all, she is a street kid. She could be a lot worse! I felt that she would know the ins and outs of the sewers, and avoid the worst places, if she could escape from the Gamorreans all on their own. And I did notice that Carth, Bastila and Mission figure they're invincible. That's the way I felt through the whole game (but then I was using the cheats, aren't I a bad girl?) so I'll going to try and do better. And I know that the Gamorreans have ar'garoks and th'ocks, or however they're spelled, but you know what I mean when I say axes or clubs, don't you? They didn't explain in Kotor I, did they? (not that that is really an excuse). **

**I had fun writing about Carth getting healed. I think he'd be really wary about being touched, wouldn't you? And when Bastila hesitated and said 'this is my…" she was about to say 'friend', but thought better of it. Just to clarify.**

**It was always possible to go without the life-debt, but that's the whole reason Mission goes along with them, so I thought it would be more believable to do it anyway. Besides, think of how many funny situations can come out of this!**

**I've had this typed out for a day, and I wanted to wait another one before I posted it so I could get properly started on the next, but I just can't deny you guys anything! Enjoy the last post for the year!**

**I'm actually quite pleased with this. I typed out three and a half pages in one day, and they're not half bad! Of course, you can review if you think I'm wrong!**


	8. Battles, Beasts and Bases

**Chapter Eight: Battles, Beasts, and Bases**

Zaalbar looked at Mission, puzzled. "What's wrong, Mission?"

"Well, the thing is this," Mission explained, "when I found them, I was worried about you, and so I grabbed the next people I saw to help me. I thought they were salvagers. They didn't tell me any lies, but I know they're not scavengers. You don't scavenge if you can be a mercenary or a healer," Mission said, with a side glance at Bastila. "I'm pretty sure Carth is a soldier. It's the way he stands, and fights. He's even better with grenades than you are, Z! And Bastila…"

"Is plain weird," finished Carth, to Bastila's irritation. "You're right. I'm a soldier and pilot for the Republic Fleet. Bastila is…"

"Not weird," snapped Bastila, straightening her shoulders. "I am a Jedi."

Mission collapsed into helpless laughter. "Yeah, right, good one!"

That left Bastila speechless. No one had ever questioned her identity as a Jedi!

Carth began to feel danger in the air. "Mission, she's not joking," he warned.

Mission stared agape for a moment. "A Jedi? On Taris? Jedi don't come to Taris!"

"It wasn't exactly a choice," Bastila muttered, tight lipped.

The teenager still wasn't done. "But you can't be a Jedi! They're supposed to be all serene and calm!"

"I've been unconscious, had a broken nose, destroyed countless Vulkars, rakghouls and Gamorreans, and put up with limitless indignities," Bastila exploded, "all on this festering excuse for a planet! I think I've every excuse to be a little short-tempered!"

"Well, I'm sure we don't want you to get all touchy," retorted Mission snidely, hurt by the insult on her home planet.

"How about the two of you just shut up?" Carth yelled.

Both females glared at him.

"Help me out here, big guy," Carth pleaded to Zaalbar, who looked at him impassively. "Bastila, Mission, we've got a lot to do. Mission, we're here doing a job for Gadon so that he can help us rescue our friend. Like Zaalbar, she's been imprisoned. Bastila, without Mission we wouldn't even be this far, let alone have a chance to save Revan. It's time you acted like the older, more mature woman I know you must be. We all have to work together to achieve our goals."

For a moment, it looked like his peacekeeping would work. Then Bastila pursed her lips and thrust her hip out, and Mission made a rude noise and dug a hand in her stealth belt. "I don't know about _you,_ but I know the way to the Vulkar Base. You can come if you want." She flickered into invisibility as Zaalbar shook his head and began to slowly lumber after her.

"And this is why I'm not an Admiral," Carth mumbled to himself as he regarded the two visible members of the team.

Mission led them down a serious of tunnels at a bewildering speed. Carth suspected she had gotten lost a few times, but managed to find her way eventually. When Carth called for a well earned rest after a nasty encounter with a particularly fierce Gamorrean patroller, Mission sidled up to him, well away from Bastila.

"So, Carth," Mission began, a little hesitantly. Obviously, she had been thinking, and something was bothering her.

"Yeah?" he was once again cleaning Bastila's blade, and getting very sick of it.

"You're a pilot, right? And you've been to tons of planets, right?" At his nod, she continued. "How would you rate Taris compared to the other planets you've seen?" She added nothing further – she wanted a completely honest answer. Carth gave her one.

"To be honest, Mission, Taris would rate pretty low. The rich spoiling themselves while the poor are crushed beneath them; it doesn't make a pretty picture."

Furrowing her brow, Mission objected, "Sure, but that's only since the Sith occupation… or not. Huh," she sighed, one hand fingering her left lekku. "I guess Taris ain't as great as I thought, you know?"

"Believe me, Mission," Carth said earnestly, "there are a lot of better places than Taris. There are worse, too, but Taris is no place for a kid on her own, even a kid who's got a Wookiee to look out for her."

"WHAT?!" Mission yelped. "I ain't no kid! And I look out for Zaalbar as much as he looks out for me! He's my friend, _not_ my babysitter! Sheesh, I ask you a simple question and get a lecture!"

Carth lost his temper. "You want a lecture?! How's this? Only _bratty little children_ fly off the handle because of a simple comment!"

"I'm not gonna listen to you, Carth, you're not my father, though you're sure old enough to be! Keep your lectures inside your withered old head, because I don't need 'em!"

"And I sure as hell don't need this," Carth growled, "Look, just, just drop it and let's get on to whatever we're supposed to be doing."

"Why didn't you try to stop them arguing?" Zaalbar asked Bastila as softly as he could.

Bastila looked up at him, startled. Were Jedi not always honest? "I enjoyed watching it," she admitted quietly.

"The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said," Zaalbar stated, surprising her again. "Mission is a vulnerable young girl forced to grow up before her time. I do not know Carth, but it is quite obvious he shoulders a heavy burden of pain. You are also exposed to weakness, when you are so afraid of yourself and what is expected of you. Such people can grow weary faster than others. If you truly wish your friend to be rescued, a climate of unity is required."

"Why didn't you stop them?" Bastila evaded him. Questions were always honest, weren't they?

"Short of picking him up by the scruff of the neck, I don't think Carth would understand me," Zaalbar grumbled.

"You wouldn't…" Bastila whispered, horrified.

"No. But the question you should be asking is if you want this task to succeed. And if you do, you must ensure that it does. There is nothing else you need to know."

Bastila exhaled abruptly. Zaalbar was right, and they both knew it. What Bastila didn't know, was how to mend the situation and create the kind of atmosphere Zaalbar had described. "When did you grow so wise?" she asked him almost inaudibly.

"Wookiees live a very long time, so it is not astounding that we should be more intelligent than humans or twi'leks," Zaalbar stated.

She didn't know what to say to that. Instead she concentrated on keeping up to the rest, and trying to read her companions' body language, as Zaalbar obviously was. _Is it a bad thing that I'm not that good at it?_ she wondered. All of a sudden, a wash of emotion rushed over her. She was honestly surprised when she realised why. She missed Revan.

Sure, she could be inscrutable, frustrating and sarcastic, but Revan had always looked out for Bastila and guided her. Without Revan, Bastila had to choose everything for herself, and one thing she learnt was that she needed more practise. Oh, well, in the meantime she had a very furry guide to help her. Strange how support can come from the most bizarre places.

Meanwhile, Carth and Mission were avoiding each other and the rest, although Mission didn't mind Zaalbar too much, but she thought he might deserve a bit of silent treatment for swearing a life-debt to someone so up herself. It was consequently a very quick, very silent trek through the sewers, punctuated only by a squeal from Bastila when some sewer water dripped on her head, and a roaring Wookiee curse when Zaalbar felt his foot nearly go through a rusted floor panel. They were fortunate not to incur any opposition.

After a particularly tricky descent down a more than averagely rusty ladder, Mission switched her stealth generator back on only to have it fizzle out with a crackling sound. "I knew I should have stolen it from a better class store," she raged, tearing it off and drop kicking it into a wall. "Stupid Nar Shaddaa poodoo!"

Without a word, Zaalbar retrieved the device from the floor and looked at it mournfully. He tucked it in his belt as Bastila reproved Mission for her actions.

"Was that really necessary? Surely the more practical thing to do would have been to ascertain the problem and fix it."

Mission decided not to stick her tongue out at Bastila, though the urge was there. "You don't know much about stealth belts, do you?" That was a rhetorical question. "You see, the way it shimmered there and the noise it made, just before it conked out, tells me that the synthesis projection arc completely fused up. You can't fix that, you have to replace it. And that's the most expensive part in the belt – you're better off getting a new one."

She had seemed to calm down during her explanation, gesturing easily with her hands. Bastila noted that down for future reference. "Thank you," Bastila began, willing her voice to sound pleasant and non-threatening, "You're entirely correct – I am not fluent with anything other than the ordinary use of such devices."

"Eh, no big deal," Mission said, prepared to be lenient. "Big Z can probably use the components in something else, anyway. But I can't go ahead in stealth any more."

"That's okay," Bastila assured her, thinking busily. _Men enjoy trivial victories,_ she remembered. "What do you suggest, Carth?"

To her amused pleasure, Carth's glowering visage lightened in expression. "Simple recon," he replied, "one of us in front, armed, two of us in the middle, armed, and one of us behind, armed."

"Then you can take the front position," Bastila decided, "I will proceed in the middle with Mission, and Zaalbar can make up the rear with his bowcaster." In a quiet aside to Mission, "I trust he is a good shot?"

"Pfft," Mission dismissed her concerns, "no problem there."

"Now," Bastila said, proud of herself, "you should tell Carth the way to go."

A slow smile grew on Mission's face. "I should tell Carth where to go?" she smirked at Bastila, causing the Jedi to regret her actions.

"I think I already know what you're going to say," Carth raised his voice.

_Good hearing,_ thought Mission, startled. "Um, I don't know that you do," she returned, moving over to him.

"Oh, are you ready to have a civil chat, or am I going to be treated to another childish tantrum?" Carth mused sardonically, unaware that Zaalbar bared his teeth behind Carth's back.

"Tantrum!? I was gonna apologise, you half-assed bantha!" Mission retorted, bunching her fists before throwing her head back and visibly trying to calm herself. "I mean, I'm sorry," she said, more quietly. "I didn't mean to lose my temper, it's just I hate it that you treat me like a helpless little kid. I'm not helpless."

The qualified apology had Carth softening a little. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said, too." It was true. He'd been feeling like a bastard whenever he caught Mission or Bastila's eye. Then he tried to avoid them altogether, and felt worse. "I've been a little on edge lately, it's not surprising, with everything going on like it has – but I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He sighed, and made her look at him. "You have to know we don't think you're helpless. I know you saved me back there with the Gamorrean. And you're the only one with the code to the base. We're in this together, we need you."

To his surprise and horror, Mission teared up. "You…you really mean it, don't you? Nobody's ever said that… and Zaalbar might think it, but he's not one for words, you know? Thanks."

Awkwardly, Carth patted her shoulder. She grabbed his hand and held it a moment, before releasing it and clearing her eyes from the tears, becoming the hard-bitten Mission he recognised. "You need to take a left, up there, and go straight until you see the connecting tunnel on your right marked with the symbols E-6-2. That should bring us right at the energy shield."

Carth followed her instructions exactly, and they made it to the energy shield protecting the only hallway that led to the Vulkar Base's Undercity entrance, albeit even more filthy than they were already. Mission bounded up as soon as Carth had ascertained the area was clear, and began to press buttons on the control panel.

"It's damn near impossible to hack," she chattered, smiling a little, "even for me. But luckily for you guys, I have the codes. I picked them from the pocket of a Black Vulkar who had a _little _too much to drink."

Bastila and Carth exchanged a glance. The list of Mission's 'talents' was growing.

"A-hah!" Mission said triumphantly as the energy field wavered and then dispersed itself completely, leaving the way clear. "One Vulkar Base."

"With one rancor, according to Gadon Thek," Bastila reminded Carth.

"Oh, that?" Mission commented.

"You know?" Carth asked.

"How do you think Gadon found out?" Mission queried. "You really think I'd hang on to these codes and never use 'em? I tried it out right away, but I'm not suicidal. With Big Z, I can dodge rakghouls and Gamorreans, but rancors are a little out of my league."

"Unless I have some nice explosives, they're out of my league too," Carth remarked.

Zaalbar howled something at Carth and proffered a grenade. Carth might not have understood Shyrriwook, but he knew ordnance. "A thermal detonator? Where in the hell did you get one of those?" he caressed the sphere carefully with his thumb.

Mission answered for him. "Big Z can make pretty much anything out of spare parts."

"That's handy," Carth mused, eyeing Zaalbar's bowcaster. "You've made some interesting adjustments on your weapon."

Before they got into a detailed discussion about armaments, Bastila interrupted. "We can talk shop later, Carth."

He nodded, and they followed a few metres behind Mission as she carefully traversed the hallway.

"It's quiet," noted Carth.

"Yeah," frowned Mission. "Last time I was here, the thing was screaming." She couldn't repress a shudder.

Now they were at the last door. "It should be on the other side," Mission said quietly. Changing her walk, she moved forward on the balls of her feet and gently touched the opening mechanism of the door. As it slid open, she forced her breathing to be slow and even, almost silent, and glanced around quickly.

"Oh, my," Bastila breathed from just behind her shoulder.

It was a very large room, about the size of a space-craft hangar. In fact, it may have been one before the Lower City and Upper City was built on top. On the side they were on, there were huge dark stains on the floor leading up to a shadowy pile. Zaalbar's nose twitched a little – it told him exactly what that pile consisted of. It didn't take a Wookiee nose, either; Carth had already recognised the familiar smell of decomposing bodies.

Toward the other end of the room were two rectangular pits on either side of the walls, making a causeway to the Vulkar Base door. But that wasn't what startled the group into silence. What did that was the immense beast straddling the ramp.

None of them were experts on rancors, but they could all realise that this specimen was something special. It seemed as large as a house, the shoulders heaving with every breath. Long talons, huge teeth, squashed up, beady eyes; the thing was straight out of a nightmare. Bastila began to chant the Jedi Code under her breath, and Carth had to remind himself to breathe as they peeked around the corner of the door.

"I wouldn't even make a mouthful," Mission whispered, almost inaudible. "Big Z wouldn't be a mouthful."

Carth pulled Mission back from the door gently. "None of us are on the menu, Mission. Come on, we've seen the thing, now let's get back and plan how to blow it up."

Carth started. "I could throw the thermal detonator at it. If my aim is good, the rancor will get a pedicure."

"How fast can a rancor move?" Bastila asked.

"Nobody's going to be bait," Carth said firmly. He got a thoughtful look in his eye, and corrected himself. "None of us, anyway. We need a dead body. If we can get one, we arm the grenade, put it on the body, tip the rancor attracting stuff on it, the rancor eats it – and gets his insides all messed up."

"But we haven't killed anything for a while," Mission protested. "Do you know how long it would take to find one of our old kills and drag it here?"

"There's a pile of bodies in that room," Carth pondered.

"You couldn't do it in time before the rancor reached you!" Bastila protested.

"Is there any way you can rig up Mission's stealth belt, big guy? Temporarily?" Carth asked Zaalbar.

Zaalbar shook his furry head.

Stymied, Carth tried to think out of the box. "Any Jedi tricks you think could work here, Bastila?"

Bastila bit her lip and deliberated. Revan had been teaching her many styles of mind control – she was excellent with Battle Meditation, improving vastly with Mind Domination, and they had begun working on something new, Beast Trick. Would that work?

"I think I could cloud the rancor's mind long enough for Mission to bait a body," Bastila said slowly, her mind calculating the possible difficulties and dangers, "but it would be tricky."

"Mission? It would be better if I did it," Carth protested.

"Mission is smaller and quieter," Bastila replied, "it will be easier to prevent the rancor from noticing her than you. It will be difficult all the same," she said honestly. She looked at Mission, "You don't have to do this. We can think of another way."

The young girl thought about it. "You think you can do this?" she questioned of Bastila.

"Ninety eight percent sure," the Jedi replied, biting her lip. "I've controlled huge military divisions – one large beast should be achievable."

"No, little one," protested Zaalbar, recognising the look in Mission's eyes.

"Yes, Zaalbar," she said, laying one hand on a hirsute paw. She grinned at the Wookiee and cocked her head, "Why wouldn't I take the opportunity to knock the Vulkars under?" She looked expectantly at Carth.

He sighed. "I know you can do this, Mission."

"Hey, don't sound so depressed," she joked.

Carth shook his head wryly. He showed her the vial containing the cocktail of pheromones the Hidden Bek scientist had given them, even easing the cork out a little for her, and made sure she was familiar with the timing device on the thermal detonator.

"When I drop my hand," Bastila instructed her, "it means I have the beast under control and it is safe for you to go."

Mission nodded, and the four of them approached the doorway again. The rancor was still in position, standing sentinel at the entrance to the base.

Taking a deep breath, Bastila placed her right hand on her collar bone and focussed her Force Sight on the rancor's mind, inching into the folds and curves of the brain itself. It was incredibly resistant to her probing, but her power was too great for it and she filled the rancor's intellect with mental snow. She let her hand drop to her side, keeping the flow of power constant.

Aware of the signal almost before it happened, Mission streaked silently to the malodorous heap, moving as she always had in stealth. To her distress, she saw the body of one of the Hidden Beks, a nice man who had always talked back to her when she visited the base. In a way, it felt wrong, she mused, as she put the armed grenade into his pocket, fastening it tightly, and preparing to uncork the formula, to use him in such a way, but she figured that he would have had a role in taking the Vulkars down, which he would have appreciated.

Suddenly Bastila felt a huge pressure exert its force back over her mind, and she struggled to stand up against it. She released more and more of her power, overwhelming the creature, but she didn't know how long she could keep this up.

Mission looked up as she dumped the contents of the vial carefully over the bait. The rancor jerked where it stood, and the claws were tightened into fists, as if it were struggling. To her alarm, she saw Bastila keel over backward, nearly hitting the floor as Carth caught her and glanced at her, his unsaid message clear. _GO!_

Widening her Sight to more than just the Rancor, Bastila sought Mission's presence. She was nearly back. The Jedi tightened her grip on the monster's psyche, feeling a tremendous sense of mastery. _I have you,_ she shouted through the Force, _and you will not win!_

Bastila became aware that she was being shaken. Cracking an eyelid open, she looked up to see two worried faces.

"Mission's here, you can stop now," Carth was repeating.

She came to suddenly, realising she was lying on someone's lap. Slowly, as if unclasping finger by finger, Bastila released her connection to the rancor, and struggled to sit up. There were tears running down her cheeks, but not from pain or sadness. She felt like she was coming out of her battle trance.

The others were aware of the new pounding noises – the rancor was now fully alert and was seeking out it's new gourmet treat. From their vantage point, they saw the rancor approach the pile of bodies and select the most aromatic. A few seconds later, it had disappeared into the rancor's maw, and the rancor moved back to its original post.

"Are you all right?" Carth asked her, anxious. Hovering behind him, Zaalbar was quite as anxious as Carth, though he didn't look it.

"Fine," Bastila said, meaning it. "Has it been destroyed yet?"

"No," Carth said. "We're all waiting for the boom."

Bastila finally realised she was sitting on the ground in a sewer. "Oh, my," she groaned, scrambling up and pinching the sides of her suit, assessing the damage.

"You'll never get the stink out of your boots," Mission said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I always cache a set near the elevator and use those."

They sat in silence for a while, looking at each other trying not to make accusations. Why didn't the damn detonator go off? Did Mission actually set it? Or did Zaalbar's design have a defect?

They were quite relieved when they heard a muffled bang and heard the rancor's gurgling roar. Mission poked her head out of the door in time to see the rancor stagger forward and fall, thrashing in its death throes.

"That actually must be a really nasty way to go," she noted, frowning.

"Whatever, it's dead," Carth said, uncaring. "We've got a Vulkar base to storm." He pointed fiercely at Mission. "You stay here."

"What, don't think I can help you?" Mission pouted.

"Of course you could. But I'm more afraid of Zaerdra than of you," Carth grimaced.

The smile was restored to her face. "You know, I don't blame you. There was this Vulkar, one time, who she caught hanging around Jules's place. She used her poison darts on him, and when he woke up, he was gagged with his own underwear, and you know what…"

"Mission!" Bastila exclaimed.

Carth ignored the interruption. "Bastila and Zaalbar, you're with me. We need to go firstly up to the administration level. That's where the only elevator to the garage is. There we scout around and find that blasted accelerator, and fetch Mission, and get out the Lower City entrance."

"That is impractical, Carth," Bastila pointed out. "It will be better if Mission comes along with us. We can protect her, and once we get to the Hidden Bek base, Mission can defend your actions. If she wants to," Bastila amended.

"'Course I would," Mission said stoutly. She winked, "He's not a bad old geezer."

"I'm touched," Carth said, trying not to smile, "but are you sure? We're gonna have a hard enough time trying to protect ourselves."

"The subject is no longer open for debate," Bastila said loftily, picking up her Echani brand. "Time is a commodity we are fast running out of." Truth be told, Bastila had tried to be supportive, but now she was just annoyed by the conversations. _The sooner we get our goals completed, the better_, she mused. _If we could do it in silence, it would be a bonus._

The others took their cue from Bastila, readying themselves and checking their weapons. It was quite amazing, Carth noted with surprise, how quickly their attitude turned professional. Then he supposed they had been in practise with the rakghouls and Gamorreans.

This time, Bastila advanced first, followed by Mission holding her single vibroblade as if she knew how to use it. Afterward came Carth, his two blaster pistols in his fists. Last of all was Zaalbar. Carth had been truly impressed when Zaalbar had made three headshots in a row at a good distance. They were all on the same Gamorrean, though – Carth gathered that Zaalbar really didn't like them.

They skirted around the still warm corpse of the rancor – thankfully, all its innards remained inside, as did most of the smell – and proceeded across the causeway to the door set into the wall.

They were entering the Black Vulkar Base – at last.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Hello again! I tried to have the Carth & Mission argument as naturally as possible, and also to lay the foundations of Mission & Bastila's beginning relationship. Hey, if you hated my doing the whole lot – relax, it's all over now! **

**If you're wondering why Zaalbar is being so articulate and helpful to Bastila, I figured it was part of the life-debt. He realises the importance of this mission to her, and 'honours' her, as he promised, by trying to guide her a bit. In his experience with humans, he can probably tell their age, as well, and understands Bastila's very young. But he'll only be that way if Bastila needs help – he reverts back to his taciturn routine otherwise. Is that plausible? You can give your opinions.**

**What is a synthesis projection arc and how does it fit into a stealth belt? No idea! I just made it up, and I'm not as good as SynysterShadow in my descriptions of hypothetical technologies, so I hope you didn't come to that part and say, "Well, that sounds completely implausible. I don't like this story any more." Have any suggestions?**

**I don't know any military techniques, phrases or whatever. Sorry about the weakness there.**

**Somehow, when I think of Nar Shaddaa as it was in the game, I think of sweat shops and the like. So in my universe, all the crappy one-use products come from Nar Shaddaa. Hope this doesn't bother anybody.**

**You know, I never understood the insult 'nerf-herder'. It isn't such a bad thing to be called a 'cowboy' or whatever, but I suppose the lifestyle isn't glamorized in the SW universe. And 'poodoo' just cracks me up. It's like it was said by a toddler, or something.**

**(1) "The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said." Quote by Peter Drucker.**

**Do you notice how these are getting longer and longer? Don't read them if you don't want to, and you can review and tell me to shut up if you want. **

**I finished it there because I'm a bit depressed and not in a writing mood. I myself don't appreciate the way this chapter wanders all over. Hopefully it'll get better. The next update will be all about the Vulkar Base, probably in 4-6 days. I have some things going on, not to mention a trip to the dentist. Pray for me!**


	9. Acquiring the Prototype Accelerator

**Chapter Nine: Acquiring the Prototype Accelerator**

Bastila, Carth, Mission and Zaalbar were not standing idle after they had purged the sewers of the rancor. First, they eliminated the two guards standing on either side of the elevator to the administration level. Then they all stepped in, Zaalbar almost forgetting his height and knocking his head, eliciting another Wookiee curse. Mission shook her head and looked surreptitiously at Bastila. Wookiee curses could be quite descriptive, as evidenced by Bastila's heated countenance and fierce stare at the tiles on the elevator floor.

Carth went into commando mode. "Now, listen up. They aren't expecting us, or anybody, to get past that rancor up here. But if they've got any useful people here at all, they'll try to contain the situation as soon as they are alerted. We've got to postpone that for as long as we can. Keep an eye out for cameras, and especially for security consoles. Mission?"

Mission smiled up at him, happy to be included on this jolly ol' trip of death. "Yes, sir?"

"You can do a slicing job on the security, can't you?" Carth crossed his fingers.

The street teen snorted. "Can a Selkath swim?"

"Then I want you to do the works, when we can get access to the network," he told her. "Do anything and everything you can think of, unless it makes it difficult for us to go in there, get the accelerator, and get out." He didn't like saying the next bit, but it was necessary. "And if you can trim down the numbers of Vulkars, then do it. We can only fight so many."

Bastila spoke up next. "We know roughly where the elevator to the garage level should be, but if you can get the schematics for the building, I'm sure that will be very helpful, as well."

"'Course I'll get that," Mission rolled her eyes. "I can't tell the Beks I was in the Vulkar Base and forgot to get them a copy of the layout, now, can I? Carth wouldn't have to worry about a thing, Zaerdra'd be on _my _tail."

"We have to be quick and quiet," Carth stressed, "no arguments, no yelling. You must follow me without questioning."

"Who said we would follow you?" Bastila queried, eyebrows elevated. "Surely with the Force guiding me, I should be the leader."

"See, this is what I meant," Carth shook his head. "None of this fortune telling garbage…"

"What?!" Bastila fumed.

"No questioning," Carth said, glaring sternly at her.

Bastila wondered if she should Force Push him into the elevator controls or simply punch him in the face. She was leaning toward the latter option when the elevator chimed once and the doors began to open. Carth stepped forward, peering out with his face and two blasters sneaking past the doorway.

A patrol droid was marching away down the corridor. By the look of the model and its general dilapidation, Carth assumed that it wasn't very advanced or well taken care of, but erred on the safe side and waited until it had rounded the corner.

He led his little band forward from the elevator, moving down the corridor halfway and then turning left. Zaalbar was being surprisingly silent in his movements. Must have been the hair muffling it all.

To Bastila's surprise, Carth was headed for the noisy part of the base. She would have remonstrated with him, but he seemed to be everywhere but in earshot of her. She tightened her grip on her Echani brand – funny, she seemed to be doing that a lot, lately – and prayed she could rescue them all from whatever trouble and danger Carth put them in.

As they neared, the noise separated itself enough to be distinguished as a heavy beat, the base for some music they couldn't quite catch. Bastila was thinking what type of sentient could possibly stand that racket when she saw Mission, rocking her hips to the rhythm. It made her wonder what on earth was wrong with them, or with her. No, definitely them.

According to his file, Carth had been a mechanic and Telosian police officer before he joined the Republic Fleet, at which he put his hand to any sort of job he could find. It was partly his willingness to try anything that had caught the attention of his commanding officer, Saul Karath, who was rising in the ranks, and brought Carth up with him in his comet tail. Bastila had to wonder exactly what he had done that made him qualified to sneak around a hostile gang base.

They passed soundlessly through another door, thanks to the covering noise, to enter a dimly lit room with a brightly lit kitchen, behind which was a Duro cook. He was facing away from them, bopping to the beat, as he was chopping up…something. Mission had to stuff her fist against her mouth to stop the giggles. She had never seen a Duros that…chirpy.

Creeping through the room, avoiding the tables and chairs they could only make out up close, they headed for the door opposite. As they were almost there, they were startled by two sudden red lights, like eyes, suddenly lighting up. Somewhere below them a targeting laser twinkled. Carth raised his blasters, fingers contracting on the triggers, when the room lit up briefly with white streaks and the guard droid fizzled and sparked.

Bastila stood to his side, one hand still extended towards the droid, while her eyes turned anxiously towards the cook. He was oblivious, still swaying to the tempo that was still pounding in their ears. With a furious look on her face, Bastila grabbed Carth's arm and literally yanked him close so as to whisper in his ear.

As he automatically jerked backwards, she growled, "That was the Force. Fortune tellers use deception. I use the Force. Must I explain further?"

"Got any power packs hidden on you somewhere?" he shot back, twitching himself free.

Bastila narrowed her eyes, but due to the racket still going on, couldn't make out his words. Carth, upset at being manhandled, brushed his sleeve and shook his head. Ignoring Bastila, he led them through the door they were heading for, and down another corridor. So far, the outdated maps he had seen at the Bek Base were more-or-less correct.

Mission held herself back from squealing in glee as she saw the lone control station propped up against the wall. Pantomiming with his hands, Carth gave her the unnecessary order to do her stuff with it. Mission was already at it, bringing up files and readouts with dizzying speed, after taking a few complicated looking objects from her pockets and jamming them in various ports.

Carth and Bastila sidled up close so that they could hear Mission over the terrible noise.

"Stupid, stupid!" Mission complained, as her fingers hit the control board like rapid raindrops. She explained her annoyance. "Basically, I've got the schematics, and I can see a lot of places where I can shake things up, but this console doesn't have authorisation! The changes can only be made from the mainframe, or a lieutenant's office. And I can tell you guys, we're not getting out of here whole without some extra help."

"Where's the nearest lieutenant's office?" Carth questioned, hoping she'd see his reasoning.

Mission brought up the map on the viewscreen, zooming in on their location and tracing a path. "There, do you see? Now let me bring up the viewing feed, and see if there's anybody there…oh, crap, there is."

Too intent on the viewscreen, Bastila neglected to reprimand Mission for her language. There was someone in the lieutenant's office, a twi'lek male with what seemed like a clinical case of depression. Either that, or his favourite pet just died – the man was bawling into his hands, his shoulders shaking.

What could be heard of Carth's voice over the now extremely annoying pulsation was urgent. "We need to get over there, right now, while he's …otherwise occupied. If we have the element of surprise, we can overcome him quickly and silently, and get what needs to be done, done."

Mission nodded, and they all started off quickly. Among other things, Mission had also downloaded the patrol droid schedule, which, when she showed it on her datapad to Carth, they followed to the letter and without incident. Thankfully, they were now at a distance from the kitchen to communicate to each other without shouting.

"I cannot believe how easy this is," Bastila shook her head. "This is not how a professional operation is run."

Snickering quietly, Mission enlightened her. "You met the Vulkars on the streets, didn't you, Bassie? How professional were they?"

"My name is Bastila Shan, Mission Vao."

"Yeah, I know."

They were soon at the door of the office. The ever useful Mission had downloaded the locking codes, so it was quickly opened, and they all burst quickly upon the startled Twi'lek lieutenant, except for Zaalbar, who evidently figured the three of them could handle it without him, and resumed his role of making sure that they weren't attacked from behind.

To the lieutenant's credit, he swiped his tears away and drew his blade at the same time. Bastila leapt forward and met his blade with one side of hers, disengaging as the lieutenant flung himself back behind his desk to avoid a few bolts from Carth's blaster pistols. Bastila recovered her grip and charged again, conscious of her advantage as she hunted the prone enemy, swiping at him and leaving a gash in the side of the counter.

Bastila harried him with a flurry of strikes, herding his back towards Carth again, when she noted a change in the lieutenant's demeanor. Suddenly calm, the man closed his eyes and stopped breathing, realising his time was up. He dropped to his knees, making Carth swing his blasters hastily to avoid hitting Bastila.

"Stop, Carth!" Bastila voiced, nevertheless laying her blade against the twi'lek lieutenant's throat. For a moment, everyone was silent, catching their breath.

"Go ahead. Kill me. It's not like I don't have it coming," the lieutenant said flatly in the interval.

"Are you searching for death?" Bastila enquired carefully. Carth rolled his eyes. This was not the time for a psychological evaluation.

"I have been avoiding it for too long. I'd also rather meet my death at your hands than Brejik's or Kandon's."

"Egrin?" Mission spoke up softly.

"Little Mission?" Egrin asked, his voice lifting. "I haven't seen you since …"

"Since you abandoned Gadon and left with that core-slime Brejik," Mission finished bitterly.

"I saw it as leaving with my best friend," Egrin commented wryly.

"Not to interrupt any reunions, but we do have a job to do," Carth pointed out.

"Best friend?!" Mission scoffed. "You sure know how to pick 'em. What, did his backstabbing habits give you a fuzzy warm feeling? Or was it the way he psychotically orders killings whenever he gets crossed?"

"Oh, come on, Mission," Egrin frowned, "You know how Brejik was before all this started. He was Gadon's nephew, everyone's favourite kid, and he sure knew how to throw a party. But when Gadon went blind, but refused to resign, Brejik changed."

"So why didn't you stop him?" Mission asked, arms akimbo.

"I wasn't strong enough," Egrin admitted. "It's taken everything I know just to stay alive this long. Watching all the plotting, extortion… murder, and not being able to do anything… I've had enough."

"Then help the Beks! You have no excuse!" Mission sneered.

"I've been watched like a hawk, Mission," Egrin told her. "I haven't even been out of the Base in two months. They only keep me around for my talents, and even then, I'm pretty much done for already."

"We can help you," Bastila offered, much to Carth's irritation.

Impatient, Carth walked over to the repentant Vulkar and hefted him against the wall, one hand gripping his collar. "We would like some information before we even consider helping you," he said, raising his blaster for emphasis. "Firstly, where do you keep your prisoners?"

"Carth!" Bastila scolded.

"I'm waiting," Carth shook his prisoner, ignoring Bastila.

Egrin looked uncannily calm. "If you're looking for a slave, the slave quarters have been mostly cleared after the sale three days ago. If you're looking for that Republic soldier," Carth's fist tightened, "then you're out of luck. Brejik has her at a safe house, which one, I have no idea, and there's no way to find her before the swoop race tomorrow."

"Damn," Carth snarled, wishing he could have gone the easy way for once.

"From what I hear," Egrin offered, "she's in pretty good spirits. Brejik was very put out after seeing her – she must have laid into him with the insults."

Carth looked at Bastila for confirmation.

"She's quite strong-willed," Bastila disclosed tentatively, "and has been known to have an acerbic wit."

"Okay, then," Carth mused, "then we would like access to your console and directions to the Hidden Bek's stolen accelerator prototype."

"Fine," Egrin agreed, "I know where the thing is. Mission, my password is 'I-L-O-V-E-G-I-Z-K-A-S'."

Snickering, Mission typed the password in. "Okay, I'm in. The password was good. You can let the nice man down now, Carth."

With a shrug, Carth removed his fist from Egrin's collar, but kept his right blaster in hand, waving it pointedly for a moment. Egrin nodded in reply, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. The rest of the attention was on Mission, whose rapid finger movements and artless chattering indicated she was working easily.

"Heh! Serve you guys right! Hire a proper electrician tech, next time. Ooh, your nice shiny swoop bikes, all laid out in a row. Gotta love the computer systems onboard. Viruses away! Do your momma proud. And what's this? Security feed control? Why, yes, I _would_ like you to loop these little films I just made. Ah, elevator protection. Vaporising turrets, nice touch. Too bad they're off line now."

She swung around and reported to Carth, "I've bettered our odds. Instead of forty or so, we're gonna deal with maybe twelve. Two sets of bad news though: first, the closed room where the prototype seems to be is isolated, uncontrollable by the console and will need an access card from a garage hand. Second, they know we're here."

Egrin moved to pick up his vibroblade.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" Carth said exasperatedly, covering him with his blaster.

"You're going to need help," Egrin said. "Kandon's here today – he's probably the one who sealed the room with your prize in it – protecting the Vulkar honour. Huh. Feel free to blast me if I attack you, because I won't. I'm sick of the Vulkars, sick of this base, and I'm sick of myself."

Bastila said aside to Carth, "I sense no deception from him."

"Whatever," Carth said flatly. "If you go out of line, I will take you up on your offer."

"Deal," shrugged Egrin.

Now a party of five, they exited the office and in Carth's case, reluctantly let Egrin lead them to an important looking door. Just in case Mission had failed hacking the security program, he swiped his card in the slot, and entered first. The turrets inside were motionless, pointing to the ground.

"Let's go," Egrin entreated, opening the elevator doors and stepping inside. Carth, suspicious as ever, hung back while the rest trooped in. He finally followed, thinking that if Bastila was right with her Force thingies, she should know when danger approached. And he would have crowing rights if she was wrong.

"If they know we're coming, shouldn't we use another way down?" Carth grumbled pointlessly as the elevator started.

"There's no other way down," Egrin shook his head sadly, "unless we creep around the ventilation tunnels, and the Wookiee simply couldn't fit in them. Besides, in there, we'd be really dusty and noisy. This place was built cheap."

"Get to the sides," Carth ordered everyone in case there was a party waiting for them.

When the elevator doors opened, they headed out quickly, noting places of concealment and hiding behind them, apart from Zaalbar who just lumbered out like usual. The elevator had opened out on to a huge room, obviously where the large pieces of machinery were serviced. Metal tables, welding equipment, and ceiling cranes were the most obvious furnishings. Wrenches and other tools lay either scattered over the floor, laid beside servicing pits or stacked away neatly on benches. A row of rusting deactivated droids lay alongside a wall, waiting for repairs. Swoop bikes were anchored in bays. Where, though, were the mechanics?

Egrin muttered from his hiding spot, "When an alarm goes off, the drill is to meet at the head garage hand's office. From there, they pick a plan and execute it."

Mission smirked. "I kind of left that particular office in a bit of a mess."

"So they're confused, but not for long. They'll come pouring back soon," Egrin warned. "The hallway to your right."

Before a minute had passed, they saw movement from the right corridor, and then began a swift, short battle. Carth rose from his shelter and began raking them with fire, Bastila drove an assortment of tools towards them telekinetically, and to everyone's surprise and shock, Zaalbar lifted the nearest deactivated droid and tossed it towards the invading band.

Zaalbar really won the fight. Most of them were either crushed by the flying droids, or picked off with Carth's fire as they became terrified and turned to flee. Mission wore an expression of extreme disappointment as she had not even engaged in battle. Carth tried to stop his eyes from bugging out and reminded himself to never annoy the Wookiee. It hadn't sounded like a good idea before, and now…

Picking over the bodies, Mission held up an access card. "Let's get that accelerator."

When they reached the door to the room, Egrin stopped Mission's hand from reaching the door slot. "First, you need to know things," he panted.

Of its own volition, the door slid open and a blaster shot rang out, barely missing Mission and catching Egrin in the temple. As Egrin dropped like a stone, another Twi'lek male swaggered from inside the room, followed by a Twi'lek woman dressed in an unlikely cross between a dancing costume and an armoured bodysuit. Two Niktos guards ranged at their back. All were heavily armed.

"What have we here? Bek thieves here to steal Brejik's prototype accelerator?" the twi'lek smirked.

"Kandon, they're not dressed like Beks," the female pointed out.

"Ah, you are right, darling. So you must be mercenaries," Kandon assumed, looking them up and down. "And little Mission. Not a Bek yet, I see."

"I will be!" Mission claimed fiercely.

"It's interesting how you claim the accelerator as your own," Bastila said coldly, "when you stole it from the Hidden Beks."

"I didn't go through all the trouble of stealing the prototype for Brejik to have it taken back," Kandon spat. "But perhaps we can work a deal."

"Maybe we can," Carth agreed lightly.

"Carth, you can't be serious!" Mission said, aghast.

"What are you doing?" Bastila questioned.

"Here's the deal," Carth began. "Zaalbar, the two back guards. Bastila, the woman. I'll take Kandon." He let the words sink in.

"I see we cannot work together," Kandon said sadly.

"Can I kill them now, Kandon?" the twi'lek woman simpered.

"Yes, darling," Kandon replied. "Kill them all!"

Carth met Kandon's charge, blocking Kandon's blade with his left side blaster, punching him in the stomach and then in the throat, at which Kandon dropped his sword. Carth finished him by shooting him at point-blank range, and then looked around to see how the others were faring.

Zaalbar had eradicated one guard with some powerful shots from his bowcaster before his line of sight was fouled by Bastila and the twi'lek woman. With some impressively fast movements, Zaalbar positioned himself before the second guard and clouted him over the head with the butt of his bowcaster, kicking him for good measure. He looked around to see that only Bastila and the woman were left fighting, but didn't offer any assistance as Bastila seemed to be handling herself quite well.

She had forced the twi'lek woman to abandon her blaster rifle for a sword tethered at her waist by closing in fast. But Kandon's girl seemed to know her way about a blade, and forced Bastila back a few steps with some powerful slashing moves. Noticing her opponent's focus, Bastila blocked a strike with one end of her brand and swept the other end below, causing the other woman to lurch back, off balance. Bastila followed her advantage and pressed forward, batting away the other woman's attempts before penetrating her defence and sinking the tip of her blade into the woman's throat. With a gurgle, the woman convulsed and then lay still, spilling blood onto the floor.

Wordlessly, Bastila handed her brand for Carth to clean, even though only one end, and only the tip of that, was gory. Sighing, Carth awkwardly brushed the blade over Kandon's clothes, handing it back.

"Egrin's gone," Mission said. She walked over to the locked safe in the corner and began working on it. "He used to hang with my brother," she whispered to no one in particular.

Carth had sharp hearing. "You have a brother?"

"Somewhere," Mission said softly.

The pilot felt unsure. He wanted to do something, but it was so long since he had reached out to anyone, that he didn't know what to do. In the end, the decision was taken from him, when the lock gave way and Mission swung the door open, showing the accelerator inside.

"Zaalbar?" Mission called. "Hang on to this for us, will ya? It's heavy, and you've the most muscles."

Lumbering over, Zaalbar took the heavy machine part in one hand and walked back. As she passed him on their way out, Carth patted Mission's arm. She looked up briefly, and smiled, and somehow that made Carth feel worse. Girls of that age shouldn't be able to shrug off grief that way.

They were careful exiting the base, but there was very little to be careful of. No one had entered the base during their expedition, and Mission made sure with the laser turrets outside that there were no alive Vulkars outside of the door either.

Gadon would be pleased at the return of the prototype, Carth knew, but Carth couldn't look back on his day's work with pride. It would end up just like most of his other missions – just something he wanted to forget.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: We can't have Mission twiddling her thumbs by the rancor corpse, now, can we? So let's get her to do some stuff! And although Carth wasn't directly derogatory to the Force in the game, I think it suits him, because he distrusts EVERYTHING. And it makes Bastila mad, that's a plus.**

**Carth's background as in his 'file' is the canon one, by the way. I forget where I got it, but there was one for Saul Karath, Malak and 'The Revanchist', as well. Malak had great looking black hair, too.**

**Am I right in assuming power packs are Starwarese for batteries? **

**I know I made the Vulkar lieutenant very different than he was in the game, but I figured it made a better story than if he was an original Vulkar and just suddenly fed up with the way things were going. After all, Brejik must have had redeeming qualities, at least in the beginning. It's another 'redemption' story that the Jedi (and Star Wars in general) are so fond of. And it gave me more to write about. This has honestly been the hardest chapter so far, not because of the subject matter, but because I haven't seemed to be in the writing mood lately, and some of the stuff I wrote seemed really out of character. Example: when Egrin says 'kill me,' I wrote: 'Okay,' Carth said agreeably. Aren't you glad I deleted it?**

**A little nod to everybody's favourite sarcastic fat cat, Garfield: 'Nice touch.' The comics and cartoons are much better than the movies, trust me.**

**I remembered the droid options in the Vulkar base, but the way I've planned it, Mission is the best at security and computers, and Revan is the robot ace. She built HK, after all. So until Revan comes along, they're going to skip fixing droids.**

**Zaalbar may be effective at stealth in a forest environment, but I can't see him anything but painfully obvious in a building. But I can see him throwing big objects. He is, after all, tremendously strong. And silent. He doesn't say a word in this chapter. **

**About Egrin's death – well, you can't rescue everybody. And I have no idea how to write a fight sequence. Oh, well. You get what you get. It's pretty messy. And bloody. *shudder***

**Many fics have Carth treating Mission like a daughter. I think he would be a bit more awkward – 1, he never had a daughter, only a son. 2, he's shut himself off from other people. 3, the game doesn't really portray their relationship like that. He might have those feelings, it's possible, but it's very likely he doesn't know how to show them. A very repressed person is our Carth.**

**Looks like Revan will be showing up soon! Updates, as usual, will come in 4-6 days. Maybe sooner!**


	10. Loose Ends Don't Wrap Themselves

**Chapter Ten: Loose Ends Don't Wrap Themselves**

Yes, Gadon was very pleased to have the accelerator back. He had commanded the lookout at the entrance of the base to welcome the returning heroes in post haste, and there were no weapon checks or delays. Carth wondered briefly if Gadon even considered that they could have betrayed him and returned on an assassination mission.

Zaerdra moved forward and grasped Mission by her shoulders, looking her up and down. "You're not hurt are you? If you are I swear…"

Wriggling out of her hold, Mission scowled and shook her head emphatically. "I'm fine, they took good care of me, almost as good as _the care I took of myself_. Carth is nearly as bad as you, Zaer."

Zaerdra looked at Carth unwaveringly. He flinched as she moved closer and said one word, "Good."

"Show our guests to their room for the rest of tonight, Zaerdra," Gadon advised her. "They will probably appreciate using the refresher facilities, too."

They were all tired, dirty and miserable. Bastila felt too drained even to complain about the facilities they were shown. She had begun to feel somewhat hopeless. Sure, they were alive. They knew where Revan was, or at least, where she would be. They had a plan to get her. But somehow, it just didn't seem like they had any hope, at least to her mind at the current time. If Bastila thought about it, which she really didn't want to, but if she did, then she would have to admit it was only her intuition and the fact she hadn't felt her die that told her Revan was alive at all. But then, she was exhausted, almost not noticing the state of her garb, over which she was usually very particular about.

Mission was just upbeat enough to think clearly. She was now concerned about how her life would change, attached to Zaalbar as she was, and he now with the life-debt to a prissy Jedi. Mission didn't really like prissy people. They always seemed to try to change her, to improve her. Mission felt she was fine just as she was.

Carth was tired, but not so tired he didn't want to find fresh clothes and burn the ones he was currently wearing. He'd been to a lot of places, but he didn't hate many as strongly as he hated the Tarisian sewers he had just waded through. There was an uncomfortable squelching in his boots, only half of which he was convinced of was sweat, and the various bits of muck that had splattered onto his outfit and dried rubbed harshly on his skin, releasing their odours again as they flexed with the material. He would be glad to clean up, switch his brain off and go to sleep, always providing he didn't get hit with nightmares.

After their ablutions, at which Carth, Bastila and Mission were thankfully provided a set of clean clothing and footwear, they were shown to a room with four bunk beds. All of them were too tired to complain, though Carth had a brief thought of what Bastila would say in the morning. She was perhaps the last one to go to sleep – the odour of the Wookiee having only so much power on Carth's wakefulness – and was in the end only able to do so through a delicate use of the Force. Just before she nodded off, she made herself a pact – _I will never go to Kashyyyk._

They were awoken by a Bek much too soon, in their collective opinions. Unfortunately, Zaalbar chose to vociferate his displeasure, making the rest of the occupants suffer from ringing ears. Carth felt almost ready to murder someone, and didn't particularly care who. Bastila felt terribly unrefreshed, but, as she was taught, leaned on the Force and put on a pretence of being 'normal'. Mission was used to worse arrangements, but she never appreciated hearing Zaalbar in full voice in an enclosed room. She alone of the group felt confident enough to whack Zaalbar for his inconsiderateness.

"I'm never sleeping with you again, Zaalbar," Carth groaned, pressing his pillow over his ears in a futile attempt to stop the high pitched whining currently tearing through his hearing.

Bastila couldn't work out why Mission suddenly dissolved into giggles.

"You should give up on the idea of sleep, Carth," she advised him, "At least for this morning. And we have much to accomplish."

"Like what?" grouched Carth, replacing his pillow at the head of his bunk and sitting up.

"Like finding another set of clothing," Bastila said, her features slightly twisted with disgust. "It is unhealthy to wear the same clothes night and day."

"Which is why some of us strip to our underwear," Carth said sardonically, drawing attention to his very modest set of shorts and undershirt type of underwear.

Bastila bit her lip to avoid replying that her underwear was considerably more revealing than his. She would not go to sleep in a common room with others in her skimpy foundation garments. She could not!

"Gadon most likely has some stuff for us to do," Mission interjected into the silence, "and we have a day before the race, we can slip down to the Undercity and give the Outcasts those journals Bassie was so excited about."

Zaalbar's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.

"And there's the motion for breakfast," Carth commented dryly, "which I second. I hope they have some decent food ready."

"You're sure to get something good if you bribe the cook," Mission offered, a wide smile still gracing her face.

"With what? I don't have that many credits," Carth grouched.

Mission calmly handed him a handful of credit chits. "All those Gamorreans and Vulkars you put down weren't rich, but it all counts."

"Corpse robbing pays. Who would have guessed?" yawned Carth, putting the credits in a pocket of his jacket before putting it on over his undershirt.

Shrugging, Mission got up and out of the room. You learned to have a thick skin when you survived on the streets.

During their lunch, it was decided that Carth and Zaalbar – who could use a datapad to communicate – would talk to Gadon and ensure their end of the bargain was met, while Mission and Bastila would go to the Undercity to deliver the Promised Land journals. Carth was oddly relieved by the decision, and Bastila, though she disliked losing her control like that, really wanted to deliver those journals. It seemed like the Jedi thing to do.

As the two females were escorted out of the door, Bastila mused, "I wonder why Zaalbar wanted to stay when only we understand him."

Mission enlightened her. "Big Z loves mechanics. Wookiees are natural techs, you know; you should see their bowcasters. He just wanted to stay behind so he could see the accelerator installed, and perhaps offer some tips to the Bek mechanic."

"Okay," Bastila said slowly, adding that information to her admittedly thin knowledge of Wookiees.

The streets were mercifully free of Vulkars. Bastila assumed it was due to a combination of repairing the base which she helped to plunder, and gathering their forces for the race the next day. She could not deny the power the race had on the Lower City any longer; as they passed, people she never met asked her excitedly about the next Annual Taris Swoop Race and about the gangs. She would smile and plead ignorance, excusing herself as soon as possible, but always she would feel a tinge of excitement. Her mood of depression yesterday had lifted quite a bit.

Mission noticed this. "You've got quite a spring in your step for someone who was wading in crap a day ago."

"You know, you don't have to use words like that," Bastila answered her, pulling the corners of her mouth down. "I think I would understand what you meant if you said 'walked through the sewers'."

"Same difference, different words," Mission shrugged, "Yours suit you, and mine suit me. I don't mind you being prissy, if you let me be who I am."

"I'm not 'prissy'!" Bastila protested. "I merely have the benefit of a proper education."

"You know how to talk like you ate a dictionary," Mission corrected her, "but I know how to live here."

"That is so," Bastila agreed calmly, "but if you were dropped on Dantooine, or Coruscant, or anywhere else than this part of Taris, do you think you'd find it so easy?"

"You think it's easy living here?" Mission glanced up at her.

"Well, no," Bastila amended, "but your set of skills are limited, just as much as you believe mine are. The point is that knowledge, no matter where its source, can be of benefit. You won't always be on Taris, Mission – in fact, as you are attached to Zaalbar, and I … am currently attached to him, you most certainly will be leaving. You would get so much more out of the experience if you let yourself be open to change."

Mission thought a little bit about what she said. What Bastila had said to her made sense, and for once the patronising tone was missing from her voice. In fact, Bastila had talked to her like she would an adult, as well as providing sound reasoning.

"I see your point," Mission acknowledged softly. "I'm glad you're so accepting of Zaalbar's life debt and all. He'd be more than upset if you tried to ditch him."

"The Jedi Order respects all cultures, Mission," Bastila said uncomfortably, slipping into her lecturing voice, "but something may eventually have to be resolved. It is unlikely he will be allowed to continue with me my _entire_ life."

"Well, Big Z will have the last say, I guess," Mission shrugged. "He doesn't say much, but he always makes it count."

At that, Bastila frowned. Still, she decided to let it resolve itself another day. Today she was going to be the saviour of an entire village, and tomorrow she would rescue her Master. _And maybe then the Council would have to acknowledge… no. That way leads to vanity._

They went to the Sith controlled elevator to the Undercity. When Bastila questioned Mission about her usual method of reaching the wastes, Mission had said Bastila wouldn't like going that way. She decided not to push it – it wasn't crucial information anyway.

They passed that barrier without incident, barely giving the Sith guard a look as he scanned the passport files. It seemed to be a different guard on post this time, because he merely grunted instead of offering twisted witticisms. Bastila was quite grateful on that point, as she wasn't quite sure Mission would refrain from answering back.

And again, the ride down was peppered by awkward silences and still more awkward conversations. Bastila simply couldn't work out why talking to people could be so hard. Clearly there was a major metaphorical gulf between the best part of the population and herself.

"So, you're a Jedi?" was Mission's first offering on the altar of mutual suffering.

"Yes." Really, what else could she say?

"Did you always want to be a Jedi?"

Hmm. Should she say that when first she came to the enclave she practically cried her eyes out, missing her father so much she became physically sick? Dare she reveal that there was a time when she would have welcomed even the sight of her mother?

"It is a great honour to be chosen to train as a Jedi. I have always striven to be the best I can be."

The best responses are those that hide the real answers.

"Do you travel a lot?"

"Wherever I am sent," Bastila replied.

Then, sometime later, "So, do you, like, ever use the Force for fun? You know, trip up some jerk that's annoying you?"

"I would never!" Bastila said, horrified. "That would be a terrible misuse of the Force!"

"No, it wouldn't," Mission disagreed, grinning. "You must have done it, or at least thought about it! Don't be so prissy, you can tell me."

"For the last time, Mission, I am _not _'prissy," Bastila said sternly. "I merely have the years of learning to give me the wisdom and understanding to see how childish such petty revenge would be."

"Childish?" Mission's voice raised an octave. "Is that a crack about my age? You ain't much older than me, Miss Priss! Just because you can do some Jedi magic tricks doesn't mean you can be a stuck up little…"

With a ding, the elevator doors slid open. Bastila fell into temptation, and a piece of trash flew over the ground, bouncing in the 'wind' and wrapped itself around Mission's face, cutting off her tirade.

Tearing the refuse off her head, Mission flushed purple and complained, "That wasn't funny!"

Injecting unconcern into her voice, Bastila replied carelessly, "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about, Mission. Come now, we have to get going. Please, keep your eyes open in the future."

By that time, they were walking over the uneven Tarisian soil. Bastila paused, trying to remember exactly where Rukil had been when she met him.

"Do you know where Rukil, the storyteller, lives, Mission?" Bastila asked her.

"I usually avoid the village," Mission said, staring at the complete picture of abject misery before her. "It's very depressing."

"Excuse me," a soft accented voice interrupted.

"Yes?" Only Bassie, Mission thought, could put that many shades into a single syllable word.

"You said you were looking for Rukil? Rukil Wrinkle-Skin, the children call him," the girl rambled a little, smiling a little shyly.

"We're looking for Rukil, yes. You are?"

Sighing apologetically, the girl offered, "Shaleena. I… I'm sorry, it's just that I never get to talk to Upworlders… Rukil is over there, by that fire drum," she pointed.

"Thank you for your help," Bastila said ceremoniously before heading forward, cutting the conversation off unintentionally.

Mission zoned out of the next bit. It involved a creepy old geezer whose star chart was short a few galaxies, and Bastila speaking in the tone Mission automatically ignored. She got the gist, though: the old guy was a prophet of some sort, and thought Bastila was a saviour. Mission was really quite proud of herself for not bursting out laughing. The journals were handed over, and Rukil ranted to the leader guy, Gendar. Said leader guy didn't believe him at first, but then got excited and they both started planning their journey to their 'Promised Land.' Mission was happy for them. Everyone needed some hope. She just hoped they wouldn't _all_ be eaten by rakghouls before they got their wish.

Stepping back, Bastila mused as if to herself, "I know I have done a good thing here, but I wish I could have done more. I _should_ have done more. Those rakghouls, surely there is some way…"

"Hold on there, Jedi Girl," Mission interrupted her, "in the end, people have to be their own saviours, you know? Sometimes, when you help someone, you don't really help someone; you just put off what's gonna happen anyway. You've shown these guys where they want to go – now they have to make the effort to get there. Your job is finished."

With a probing look in those shaded grey eyes of hers, Bastila regarded Mission steadily. "That, indeed, is a lesson worth the learning."

"Hey," Mission said a bit softer, "learning's a two way street, you know?"

The sudden thought came to Bastila that maybe she didn't deserve such a kind answer.

They went back up to the Lower City. Neither of them were particularly heartbroken that they would never see the Undercity again. Indeed, Bastila wished she could say the same for the Lower City, when she was forced to defend herself from three stray Vulkars who were out hunting. She was, however, pleasantly surprised by Mission's swordplay and decided to teach her a manoeuvre or two when she had the time.

They were both mildly tired and looking forward to some rest and a bite to eat when they entered the base, but were intercepted by Dia, the waitress in hiding who was surprisingly good with a vibroblade.

"Stella, Mission, I've been looking for you. The men have been going over that bloody swoop bike for hours, now, and they wanted to speak to you as soon as you got back. I hate to do this to you, but…" she opened her hands in supplication.

Sighing, the other two agreed and the three women walked down halls, down an elevator and into a room filled with mechanical devices and lots and lots of grease.

Carth looked… happy, Bastila noted. He'd removed his hideous jacket and was begrimed almost to his arm pits, but he was discussing things quite contentedly with the mechanics. She saw him smile and wondered how someone who looked so unappealing when he scowled could otherwise look so friendly.

Averting her gaze, she noted Mission had already made her way over to Zaalbar, who seemed to have avoided a grease-laden fate and was chatting to him quite amicably. His facial expressions were a mystery to her, but he wasn't bellowing and throwing things around, so Bastila concluded that he was reasonably contented.

Gadon approached her from the side with a smile. She immediately felt a warning in the Force that translated itself to a tingle down her spine. Warily, she accepted his escort and moved around the swoop bike set proudly in the middle of the room, over to where Carth was.

"Bastila! How did it go?" Carth said perfunctorily.

"Good, and you?" she replied noncommittally.

"Excellent," he replied, adding ruefully, "You probably don't want to hear the details, do you?"

"My interests do not lie that way, no," she replied.

"Then I can tell you we installed the prototype, she works, and will probably help us win the race tomorrow," he began.

"I feel a 'but' coming up," Mission said from behind them.

"There is. The prototype is touchy. It's immensely powerful, but fragile. The amount of stress it can take… well, the less weight on the bike the better. We've taken off some of the little armour it had on it, and rigged some other stuff, but we also need a really light rider."

"Good, I've always wanted to swoop race," Mission chirped.

"No!" said Carth and Bastila at the same time, punctuated by a bellow from Zaalbar.

"No," repeated Carth, more quietly. "We're not risking a girl or a boy on that bike. It has to be handled by an adult. A light adult. An adult with superior reflexes and a cool head."

Bastila stared at him. Surely he or Gadon would produce a rider any moment.

"Bastila?" Carth asked.

"Yes?"

"You will?"

"I will what?"

"I thought… never mind. Will you ride the bike?"

"I…what?!" Bastila stared at him in shock.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Carth doesn't actually switch his brain off, it's just an expression I use. I just put this here in case you didn't get it. And is it just me or does the Star Wars food sound … unappetizing? **

**This chapter is about fixing up loose ends before the swoop race. I also included a hefty dose of Bastila and Mission talk, as they're quite new to each other and their relationship wasn't yet as developed as that between Mission and Carth. Mission knows the benefits of forming bonds – on the streets, that is often very necessary for survival. She's mature for her age, but that does crop up every now and then. And Bastila, in a good mood, is a good person. She was feeling a bit exalted over the fact that she's going to help the Outcasts, and be a good little Jedi, so her temper was on an extra long fuse. 'Course, push her too hard, and… being a teenager is hard. Being a Jedi teenager expected to save the galaxy is worse. Poor kid, no wonder she's a nutcase.**

**Seeing as Taris is pretty much all Mission ever knew, even though she remembers getting there in a packing crate, but we'll ignore that a little, it stands to reason she'd be a bit hesitant to burn all her bridges. She could even be feeling a bit scared at the new experiences ahead of her. The way she's portrayed in the game, 'I'm with you so I'm fine' is not very realistic for a fourteen year old who's been providing for herself for some years. Even if she was the most happy-go-lucky person in the galaxy, she'd still have a few qualms about going off into the unknown with a band of complete strangers, Zaalbar or not.**

**And I've always been annoyed that Carth couldn't ride the bike. I mean, why not? It couldn't be the weight issues, because Gadon was of a size with him. Those things, like the duelling and the swoop races where Revan had to do the stuff ticked me off a bit. Ah, what else is fanfiction for?**

**I've just noticed – I tend to switch perspective a lot, don't I? I'm sorry if it's confusing, but it seems to be the way I write. **

**Question: Is there a Star Wars equivalent of chocolate? Or is it the same? It's a necessary story question! And if there is no equivalent, then it is easy to see why there is Sith. No chocolate goodness spawns evil. It does!**

**It's my one month writing anniversary! At least, on the 11****th**** it will be. So, would anybody who hasn't reviewed yet like to? I've heard from about eleven people, (who are all wonderful and make this story much better), and in December there was apparently 500+ visitors (yes, actual visitors, not hits). Am I really asking too much, or do you guys not know how much a review means to an author? Clue: to an author, reviews are **_**better**_** than chocolate. So…**

**Next, the swoop race! And Revan! Yay!**


	11. Fast Jedi, Angry Jedi

**Chapter Eleven: Fast Jedi, Angry Jedi**

Bastila needed to regulate her breathing. It should be easy – she did it all the time in meditation. Heck, she even stopped breathing in meditation, when she wished to. So, she should be able to avoid hyperventilation now. It wasn't as if she was in danger. No, she wasn't. She was only going to ride an uncontrollable sliver of power straight into the concrete walls at death dealing speed. Oh, no. She was doomed.

"Sheesh, get a grip, Bassie," Mission groaned, taking hold of Bastila's hand and yanking it. "You're the ace Jedi around here."

"Aces are pilots," Bastila said, trying not to whimper. Oh, wait, she was a pilot, too. "I still don't see why Carth couldn't ride the bloody thing."

"Wow, Dia's rubbing off on you," Mission said appreciatively. "I never thought I'd hear you swear. Not that that's really swearing…"

_I didn't get that from Dia,_ Bastila thought. _From my mother…_

She clamped down on that thought, brushing it into a darkened corner of her mind, and straightened her shoulders. She was a Jedi. She could do this.

She reviewed the events of the past twenty four hours. When she returned from the Undercity, Carth and Gadon had sprung unwelcome news upon her: namely, that in order to win the race for the Beks and rescue Revan, a light adult rider would have to be found, and none of the Beks wanted to do it. So Carth volunteered her. What was he thinking?! At no time in their partnership had she ever claimed to be an expert swoop rider – she didn't even say she was a competent one! She may have offhandedly stated that she could fly a ship, but that was about all!

She protested, harangued, and finally whined, but all to no avail. There wasn't a Bek in the Base who wanted to risk their uncultured necks in a swoop race – that incidentally would save their collective asses, as well – to save a Jedi and the galaxy. Oh, no. And really, did Mission have to snort with laughter and whisper to her, "Saviour, save thyself?"

There really was no point in objecting. After all, a Jedi sacrifices whatever the Jedi has to, to forward the mission. And if that meant her life, well, there is no death, right? There is the Force? So she acquiesced, and even endured the indignity of being weighed. To prove his point, Carth also weighed himself, proving he could make two of her. It took all her willpower not to wrap a heavy spanner around his head. She really would have done that if he'd told her to have a light tea and breakfast, but he wasn't quite _that_ dense.

And now, here she was, in that half hour before the race started, going to the race coordinator to get ready. Gadon had arranged it so that Carth would be the mechanic for her swoop bike, his borrowed coveralls amply hiding his blaster pistols. Bastila had managed to strap her lightweight quarterstaff to her back, in easy reach, but hidden under her swoop jacket. If they needed backup after the race, they were in trouble, for Gadon had clearly told them that the race was sacred to all swoop gangs and any type of violence would ensure immediate reprisals. The Beks were not going to back them up.

Yes, Taris was a paradise. For Hutts.

Bastila felt awkward in her new clothes. Gadon had insisted upon it – conventional armour would have been too heavy and put a strain on the prototype, but the only leather wear that could be obtained at such short notice in her size were rather… flamboyantly designed. Her black leather pants were tight around her hips and thighs, tucked into high leather boots with silver studs and chunky high heels. Her black leather jacket was kind of loose, but short, exposing the red shirt beneath whenever she bent slightly, and the only pair of gloves that the store had that fit her long slim fingers were a sleek, supple leather stained a clear and bright red. In Bastila's opinion, the only redeeming feature of her outfit was the full head helmet with an opaque visor. No one could or would possibly recognise her.

"Relax, Bassie," Mission said, patting her arm. "We're nearly there. See the nice Duro over there? You need to go talk to him to set up your runs. He'll give you your schedule, and Carth will make sure you and your bike get there in time. You'll have about five tries to get it right."

"My name is Bastila," she growled under her breath, "and to the Hidden Beks I'm Stella."

"Yeah, remind me to ask you why when we've got some more time. In the meantime, you can look at the cage guarded by that Vulkar over there and see if that's your buddy."

Apprehensively, Bastila stepped over so she could peer into the enclosure. She let out a sigh of relief – it was Revan, all right. Then her eyes travelled down from the Jedi's face. _Master? What are you __wearing__?!_

**(&X&)**

Revan was not having a good day. First, she woke up from her brilliant plan execution with a killer headache. Then she overheard a Vulkar outside her cell door saying that they had turned up the intensity on her collar, which was supposed to send her into a state similar to catatonia. She was feeling too hung-over to be glad the function wasn't actually working.

So, to recap, she wanted to moan in pain, and the best she was allowed to do was drool.

Secondly, she still wasn't completely healed from her pod crash, and those wounds had been exacerbated by her preparatory escape attempt. She slipped into a mild healing trance which would allow her to recoup her energy and heal most of the damage, but it would take time. She couldn't go too deep or she would lose her awareness, and she would rather escape when the time was right, even partially healed.

Thirdly, and worst of all, the Vulkar outside also mentioned that it was the day of the race. Revan strongly disliked the idea of being a prize, but not nearly as strongly as she hated being manhandled, bathed, primped and squeezed into some type of contraption in an effort to make her look like slave goods. Not only did she want to pass out from the fumes of the cologne they splashed over her, but she was having trouble breathing after they strapped her into a corset. A richly embroidered, steel reinforced over-bust corset! Revan had a go at wondering what the heck they were thinking before giving it up and just assuming they were lunatics.

The assumption was made into a fact when they strapped her feet and lower legs into tight boots with high stiletto heels, curled her shoulder-length blonde hair and painted her nails. Headache or not, Revan was of a mind not to tolerate this incredible indignity when she caught a glimpse of her outfit.

She understood it to be some sort of Twi'lek dancer fashion, of the slightly more modest type. She filled out the bust part nicely, as it seemed Twi'lek women were unnaturally endowed in that area whilst maintaining sylph like figures otherwise. The waist, however, even held in to a painful point by the corset, couldn't disguise the fact that the costume was not made for this human's circumference and bulged at the seams, threatening to split. And as for what came lower – well, she was larger than any Twi'lek dancer she had seen, and Revan had never heard of exercises for firming one's backside, and would not have used them if she had.

The thin grey leggings that disappeared into the boots were also under some strain. As one of the Vulkar 'helpers' jostled her in the process of her work Revan was slightly fascinated by the jiggle of her thigh, but mostly mortified. She could not be seen in such a state!

Her ruminations were broken by Brejik, who came in to speak with the Vulkar overseeing her beauty treatments. He sniggered at Revan, who goggled hazily at the wall and began to categorise the various different ways she could see to his demise. How long would he take to choke if she rammed the makeup sponges down his throat? Perhaps dousing him in flaming nail polish would be entertaining? It would be interesting to see the effects of pouring hot wax into his nose and mouth. She wondered if it was possible to garrotte someone with doubled dental floss. Or would it be more satisfying to systematically pluck every hair from his body one by one before strangling him with the corset?

Reluctantly, she dragged her thoughts from such pleasant musings and listened to what he was saying. Oh, there was like thirty Vulkars outside ready to transport the 'prize' to the racetrack. Hmm. Thirty. My, can anyone say overkill? She couldn't overpower thirty thugs and then walk away unharmed. So she was going to have to play along for a little bit. Much as she hated to, she now admitted to herself that she would have to appear at the race in her embarrassing getup. Whenever there was a significant diversion, however, she would free herself and lose herself in the crowds, always supposing that was possible in her costume. She made a note to stun a plump civilian and steal a jacket or something.

What!? That insolent lump of Gamorrean excrement actually grabbed her! That was it. Before she went off into the sunset, Revan would make sure he was suffering or dead. No one laid hands on Revan if they wanted to keep said hands. The Jedi Code would be put on mute for a while, she decided.

She was transported to the sporting venue well before race time, so she could be catalogued and inspected like the other prizes. Revan was feeling more murderous by the minute as she was forced to swallow her indignities and act like a mental patient. She comforted herself somewhat by irritating her Vulkar guard. Using the Force, she created a subtle tickling in his left foot that wouldn't go away, no matter how he stamped it, and because of his elaborate armoured boots, he couldn't take them off to scratch it. She smirked inwardly. By the time the race was over, he would swear he had an ant farm in his footwear.

She used up the rest of her time making small prizes from the smaller gangs fall off the showing table, and watching the puzzled attendant run around picking them up. When she had tired of that little pastime, she was shocked to learn that the race was commencing. Barely repressing an expression showing on her features, she glanced around as best as she could through her purposefully glazed eyes. To her combined amazement and satisfaction, she noted the presence of her Padawan, dressed as a swoop rider with a ridiculous helmet. She decided that here could be her diversion – she had never seen anyone throw a hissy fit like her Bastila.

_Master? What are you __wearing_?

Revan didn't appreciate the overtones in that mental voice. Her pupil would never get her mental guidance if that was the way she asked for it. In any case, it would be good for Bastila to spread her wings and try to act independently. Every good Master lets their apprentices use their initiative. At least, that was what she had been told.

_Master? Master, please! Answer me! _

Nothing doing, Revan stopped herself from beaming back.

Bastila groaned mentally, missing the flicker of annoyance on her Master's torpid features. Revan was completely incapacitated. She would have to go through the race after all. Well, maybe later it would stop Revan from acting so bloody… no, that kind of thinking just wasn't Jedi-like.

After speaking briefly with the Duros race overseer, she walked back to the Bek section and caught Carth's attention by raising her visor. He straightened up from leaning against the wall and gave her all the indications that she had his complete attention.

"The prisoner is indeed my Master Revan. She appears to be incapacitated by some kind of mind control device," Bastila whispered from inside her helmet. "She will be no help to us at all, I am afraid. I must race, and win, and then we have to figure out what to do next, about getting off the planet, and avoiding the Sith…"

Carth held up his hands, "Woah down there. First things first. Race. You have a schedule from the coordinator?"

Bastila just nodded and handed him her barely used datapad.

"Uh, huh," he mused, going over the figures. "You're on in fifteen minutes. I'll help you get the bike to the track, but you have to listen what I have to say. Promise me?"

She frowned, but nodded.

Carth led her over to the bike. Bastila just stared at it as if it would explode immediately.

"Get on," Carth ordered.

Snapping her visor back down, Bastila took a deep breath and gingerly mounted her vehicle, as Carth guided her to the track.

He briefly instructed her in the controls, before she informed him curtly that she had driven similar vehicles on Dantooine. He ignored her and went over them quickly again.

"Now, don't try to race to win this first time. Get the hang of the vehicle and the track. We removed most of the safety features so you really don't want to run into an obstacle or a wreck. Trust me, you don't." He wondered what shade her complexion was currently under her helmet. "Don't try to hit all of the speed pads, or even most of them. Just try to remember where they are for next time and note potential traps."

"Okay, I think I got it," came the shaky voice from her helmet.

Uncertainly, Carth grasped her shoulder in his right hand. "You'll do fine. Just stay alive, that's the most important thing."

_Not the most encouraging words I ever heard_, Bastila thought furiously. She had to physically force herself to calm down and started breathing exercises all over again, infusing herself with the Force and ticking off the time till her run.

At the race headquarters where the prizes were displayed, Revan stopped her inane goggling for a moment to check the view screen showing the racers. 'Stella' racing for the 'Hidden Beks' was announced, showing a black and scarlet clad female racer with a full face helmet. For a moment she actually felt worried, noting two fatalities already. She wondered if she would be booted out of the Jedi Order if she let her Padawan smear herself over a concrete wall.

Thankfully, it seemed Bastila was an adequate swoop racer. Her time was off by at least five seconds, but she didn't hit any of the purposely placed obstacles or the random bits of swoop wreckage that was left from previous crashes, nor did she scrape her swoop bike on either wall. Revan idly wondered if her knuckles were white in her scarlet gloves, but decided if anyone could handle stress, it would be Bastila. A year with Revan hadn't even dented Bastila's frenetic insecurities.

Revan watched three other swoop riders smash themselves into oblivion. In a weird, twisted way, she thought, this sport has entertainment value. Swoop racing looked dull at first glance – they competed in relays, or separately. Each time was recorded and compared to the others, the fastest time being the winning one. Somewhere from deep inside her memory she dredged up the recollection that they were introducing jumps to swoop racing, but apparently that trend hadn't made it to Taris yet.

It wasn't long before Bastila's non-de-plume was announced again, and she was once again in the view screen. This time Bastila's racing was all business, and though she scared herself and almost annihilated herself, she did well and finished a scant second behind the leading time. Revan paused to wonder if Bastila would actually win her and save her the trouble of extricating herself from her predicament.

"Hey, Big Z," Mission chatted to her best friend from where they were passing the time, "Do you think they teach swoop racing at those fancy Jedi Academies now?"

"Perhaps she has a natural aptitude," Zaalbar offered.

"Maybe. They sure are flexible, though," Mission pondered, "I've never met anyone so good at kissing their own ass. I wonder what Jedi No. 2 will be like."

"You will be polite and long suffering," Zaalbar sternly commanded her.

"Yeah, natch. It's not like I need to make any more enemies."

"We should have thought a bit further about this. The Jedi Master will not wish to appear in her current clothing."

"I dunno," Mission snorted with laughter, "she could start a new trend. Pudgy is the new slim!"

"Mission!" Zaalbar barked reproachfully.

It was time for Bastila's third run. Buoyed up with confidence from her previous try, she did actually manage to secure the lead time, but it was for naught as a following rider from the Vulkars outdid the record. It seemed that the prototype accelerator might be beaten by experience.

"I can't do this," Bastila lamented quietly to Carth in the lull before her fourth run. "I've done my best, but it just isn't good enough."

"Don't give up yet," Carth advised her. "We've not been beaten yet."

Bastila stared at him as if he had two heads. "I can't do any better, Carth. There is no way I'm going to be able to beat the new time."

Opening his tool box and peeling back the swoop's engine cover, Carth mumbled quietly back, "We haven't tried everything yet. I can open up more power in the accelerator."

"Then why didn't you do that before?" hissed Bastila.

"It's not as stable like that, relatively," Carth communicated to her in a monotone.

"I do hope it's possible for me to win," Bastila said sourly. "It would be a lose-lose situation if I were destroyed and didn't manage to win the race anyway."

"If you're careful, you should be all right," Carth reminded her.

Bastila held her tongue. Anything more and they would be bickering like children.

Revan watched the viewscreen as Bastila's fourth and last try at winning was shown. To her mingled amusement and relief, Bastila survived the run, although the swoop engine on her bike most certainly did not, belching plumes of black smoke. Bastila had beaten the top time by two seconds, and was revealed, at the end of the competition, sooty and dishevelled, but triumphant.

As she and her mechanic were escorted back to the race administration quarters, Revan noted Brejik's entrance and the aura of black fury surrounding him. She was mildly upset that she had not much to do as yet in his annoyance, but she decided she would soon change that. In the meantime, as usual, she would play comatose. It was getting really old.

"And now I present the winner of this year's Taris Swoop Race, Stella from the Hidden Beks!" the Duros ground out with a flourish. Bastila couldn't help herself – she gave the crowd one of her 'I laud you, my Jedi Masters' elaborate bows with her incorruptible innate grace. Revan noted that the cute mechanic next to her didn't seem overly impressed.

"People, hear me!" Brejik demanded in a loud voice. "Before I present the so-called champion of the Beks with their prize, there is something you must know. The winning rider cheated!"

"What are you going on about?" said the Duros, clearly irritated at the interruption.

Brejik shook his fist at Bastila. "Your swoop bike was using a prototype accelerator! Clearly an unfair advantage!"

Carth was getting very annoyed with Brejik and his crowd-grabbing gesticulations. He noted Bastila's hand sneaking to the small of her back where her quarterstaff was pinned, and he dug his hands into his pockets, which he had cut before so he could grip the worn handles of his blaster pistols.

"Because of this Hidden Bek treachery," sermonized Brejik, "I am withdrawing the Vulkar's share of the victory prize!"

"You can't do that!" protested the Duros. "It's against the race rules, you know that."

"What do I care for your traditions, you fool?" yelled Brejik, obviously high on something, be it adrenaline or more substantial hallucinogens. "I am the wave of the future! If I want to withdraw my share of the victory prize and keep this slave for myself no one can stop me!"

This, Revan thought, was her cue. A Force Push on the cage door, which hit her guard in the nose, set her free. She bent over his carcase very carefully – wardrobe malfunctions would not be welcome – and picked up his vibroblade.

"I might have something to say about that, Big-jerk." Not terribly witty, but it would do.

"Impossible! You were under the influence of a neural disruptor!" cried Brejik.

"What, this old thing?" Revan lazily broke the device from her neck with one hand and dangled it from a finger before letting it drop. "Never trust things made on Nar Shaddaa. Buy crap, get crap."

Bastila was glaring at her master. _Steal my thunder, will you??_

Brejik evidently decided things had been shot to hell beyond all repair. "Vulkars, to me! Kill the slave, kill the swoop rider, kill them all!"

"Ambitious!" snarled Revan, honing in on her prey, oblivious to the shrieking swoop spectators and the several dozen gang members intent on mayhem.

With a feral grin, Brejik backed up against the wall and jerked a metal cylinder from his belt. He brandished it before her before pressing the single button located on it. With a hum, a long green rod of energy slid slickly out of the hilt and set a sickly glow over the immediate environment. Revan admitted that it was quite impressive, right up to the moment when it began to sputter and then powered down completely. She enjoyed the baffled and enraged look on his face completely.

"Aww, did you forget to charge it? Lightsabers run on power cells, Big Jerk, not magic." Shrugging, she sent another wave of Force energy at him, forcing his head against the concrete wall with audible results. Again, bending carefully, she retrieved her weaponry from another unmoving body and straightened, pleased that her garments were holding up. Turning around, not a moment too soon, she brought the hilt of her purloined sword swiftly into her attempted killer's throat, not pausing to watch him gasp for air as she swept a leg against his, making him fall. She dodged backwards as two other would-be assailants tripped over his prone mass and rapped them smartly on their skulls with the weighted pommel of the vibroblade. She winced as her acrobatics made her clothing rip in certain areas.

Using the Force as discreetly as she could to diffuse her appearance from her shoulders down, she dealt practically with three other brutish gang members. After that was done, she noted that there was a dearth of opponents, and her Padawan and mechanic buddy were staring at her with varying degrees of annoyance and curiosity.

"Bastila. It sure took you a while," Revan commented.

"Master! We tried so hard… and the rakghouls…swoop gangs…life-debt…" Bastila looked as if she couldn't decide between bursting into a furious tirade or a flood of tears.

"Lady Jedi," began the mechanic, with a noted lack of respect, "This is not the place to hang around. If you want to talk, we can do it at the Hidden Bek base."

Revan decided that would be fine, apart from one thing.

"Hey, Shoulders?" Revan barked, pointing at Carth. "Strip."

"What?" gaped Carth.

"Be a gentleman, would you? Give me your coveralls."

"Uh, sure," Carth muttered. He had a feeling he had it better with just Bastila.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Was that as good or not as good as you were expecting? It took me a while, as we had a sudden heat wave while the air conditioner was out of commission, (I didn't want my computer to melt into a puddle of plastic) and then a colony of ants decided to populate my computer desk. The very elements are fighting against my writing this fic!**

**I always thought that Bastila must have taken after her mother. And she does use the word 'bloody' in the game, those 'bloody Vulkars' I believe she was referring to. "Well maybe those bloody Vulkars will think twice before trying to keep a Jedi prisoner." I'm presuming it comes out in times of great stress. Picture her outfit as a Mira modified creation, just a bit more covering. (I'd hate to get road-rash on my tummy, wouldn't you?)**

**I was questioning whether there were spanners in the SW universe, but I think Kotor 2 refers to a hydrospanner. I'm not sure what that is, or looks like, but if it is appropriate, you may consider 'spanner' to be short for it. **

**What term would you use for the third meal of the day? I went with 'tea'. Dinner sounds like lunch, and supper comes after, if you want a snack. I'm stumped – so they have tea, all right?**

**Revan is overweight, if you haven't guessed. Not obese, but she's packing around a bit more than she should. What can I say, she's a thinker, not a doer: Jedi Consular. Vanity leads to the Dark Side, blah blah blah. And she likes her food. But she's taller than average and packs her weight well. Let's just say that if Canderous tries to toss her over his shoulder (for whatever strange reason) he'll end up looking foolish, even with his muscles. (I would actually like to see that!)**

**In case you have forgotten, Revan is almost forty, blue eyed, blonde, tall, not beautiful but pleasant to look at. Like a nice aunt. Although perhaps not so many nice aunts think up torture ideas like she did for Brejik. Were they entertaining enough? Have better ideas? (I like the last one best. If you think she's just too violent for thinking them up, then imagine someone dressed you against your will in the most ridiculous and embarrassing outfit there could possibly be, and plans to parade you in front of untold crowds. I'd be furious, too) Revan's also a bit immature for her age. Her attitude is best compared to a fiendish nun. Okay, that just sounds really demented. She's mischievous but also (sometimes) has the wisdom to do things right. If you want a young, hot Revan (who was evil) and Carth, check out Jen De Clan's story Luck Be A Smuggler Tonight. It's in my Favourites.**

**A hello to my first anonymous reviewer Serratia. As you didn't provide a link, I couldn't reply to you, but thanks for the review and I'm glad you like it! Revan will be in most of the chapters from here on in.**

**Thank the rest of you for your reviews, too. If you hadn't sent them, you wouldn't be reading this now! (hint, hint)**


	12. Adjustments and PreConceived Notions

**Chapter Twelve: Adjustments and Pre-Conceived Notions**

The group immediately left and began their tense journey back to the Upper City and the original apartment. Bastila told Revan via mental telepathy about their situation, but tersely. Revan swallowed her questions and followed them as inconspicuously as she could, dressed in the coveralls and high heels. She noticed the mechanic – now revealed in a tight, bright orange jacket and black pants and boots – kept glancing back at her, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

When they reached the elevator, Carth remembered what Bastila had told him before, when they were planning their projected escape from the swoop race. Bastila claimed that between she and Revan, they could cloud any mind. He had been dubious until she demonstrated on Mission, convincing the girl she was allergic to Zaalbar with one short, persuasive phrase. After Mission stopped her convulsive sneezing, Carth had to pry her off of Bastila, and heard words he hadn't thought could possibly come from a fourteen year old's mouth.

As she had predicted, the Sith guard at the top of the elevator was no match for the combined power of two Jedi. There were no hold-ups, no curious glances. Still, Carth was relieved when they made it back to the abandoned apartment and found it as they left it.

Revan declared she could not go any longer without cleaning up, despite being told that the hot water had been disabled some unknown time ago. She stole some clothes out of Carth's pack (she rightly decided that neither Bastila nor Mission's clothes would fit her) and headed into the tiny fresher, where she attacked her face ruthlessly with the harsh soap and pulled her wet hair straight again, devoutly hoping that the soap would at least dissipate the stench of the Black Vulkar perfume.

Being not particularly vain had its benefits. Revan had completed her shower and was mostly dried and dressed in a very short space of time. Carth's clothes were a little long and a bit baggy on her but she didn't pay much attention to that. She was barefoot for the moment, though she fully intended to cut down the legs of 'her' high heeled boots as they otherwise couldn't fit over her pants clad legs. She would have to get more practical footwear later.

Though it wouldn't show in her carefully ordered facial expression, she was very concerned about the situation they found themselves in – who wouldn't be? They were abandoned on a hostile planet with no hope of rescue from outside sources, and were being actively hunted. Not only that, but Bastila seemed to have gathered an entourage, and Revan knew that while Bastila was many things, she was not a leader. But then, Revan didn't really picture herself as one, either.

She knotted her wet hair at the base of her neck just before she left. She had looked very stern in the reflective mirror, and she thought it might work in this situation. Perhaps they were all of the opinion that Jedi were gods. Far be it from her to dissuade them.

The moment she stepped out of the 'fresher she knew that was not the case. As well as Bastila, who, unsurprisingly, seemed six times as stressed as usual, there was the mechanic, now looking extremely annoyed, a Twi'lek teenager, who looked frankly curious but unimpressed, and a Wookiee – well, Wookiee expressions were notoriously hard to read – and what the hell was a Wookiee doing off of Kashyyyk, anyway? He didn't look like a slave.

"Thank you for giving me time," Revan said without preamble, "now, if you could explain to me, in as much detail as you can manage, the situation we're in, we can start to work towards a solution."

"Taking charge already, Master Jedi?" interjected the soldier sardonically.

"Of the conversation, yes," Revan replied, a hard tone seeping into her voice, "since so far I've only been gaped at."

"You gotta admit, a Jedi in a catsuit is not something you see every day," Mission said defensively.

Revan glowered for a moment and then forced the anger away. "Yes, well, next time I'll volunteer Bastila to wear the corset – she'd probably take a liking to it."

"Master!" Bastila muttered resentfully.

"Commander Carth Onasi of the Republic Fleet, Master Jedi," the soldier introduced himself moodily, unconsciously drawing his stature up.

"Jedi Master Revan of the Jedi Order," she acknowledged in turn, bowing in a way Carth had only seen Bastila do at the swoop race track.

"Mission Vao, scoundrel extraordinaire from Lower City," Mission presented herself jauntily, then her companion, "and Zaalbar, Wookiee Scout and honourable life-debt partner to Bastila Shan."

"He's life-debted to Bastila?" Revan asked incredulously.

Bastila looked extremely uncomfortable. _Master, I tried to get out of it any way I could, but to no avail. Perhaps you or the Jedi Council may be able to extricate me from this._

"A Jedi is nothing if not honourable," Revan mused, stopping when she heard an audible snort from Carth. "Distrustful of the Jedi Order, Commander?"

"Only a lot," he scowled.

"I do hope you're able to put aside your reservations so we may complete this mission," Revan rebuked him, ignoring the fact that completing this mission just might be impossible.

"I'm a soldier. I can put aside my misgivings for now," he asserted.

_Bastila, did you read his file?_ Revan asked her telepathically.

_Yes, of course. You gave it to me. Do you not remember?_ Bastila replied in kind.

_I gave them to you to read so I did not have to. Tell me, why did the Republic Fleet send us a consultant so obviously distrustful of our Order?_

Bastila furrowed her brow before answering, _I could hypothesize that the Republic Fleet is being cautious in light of Malak's former allegiance and wishes to keep an objective eye on our activities? But I can prove nothing. Truly, despite being very annoying and occasionally obstructive, I could not have reached you without his aid, and that of the Twi'lek and Wookiee. They all have their talents which could be useful in obtaining our way off this planet._

"Now, you see, this is why I don't like Jedi," Carth's voice broke in on their conversation. "Keeping secrets, being mysterious, hocus pocus Force stuff. It's no wonder the galaxy's going to hell in a handbasket."

Revan focussed her eyes on Carth and decided to be cruel and effective. "My dear Commander, you are being ridiculous. Why couldn't I be asking Bastila questions of a feminine nature?"

Carth winced but stood his ground. "I have been married, Master Jedi. And I wasn't aware that Jedi _could _be feminine."

Mission and Zaalbar exchanged one speaking glance before carefully backing away from Carth's location.

Normally, Revan would have taught him a very painful lesson. Bastila herself looked like she wouldn't mind wreaking a little havoc on Carth either. However, Revan was forced to remember they were in a precarious situation, and there were more important things to think about and more important people to body slam.

"Consider yourself enlightened, then," Revan said coldly. "Report on the state of our mission, please, Commander."

Carth replied promptly, "Shot to hell. We have no hope of rescue, the Sith have blockaded the entire planet, and the native citizens are tepid if not hostile. All ships are grounded, and even if we could appropriate one, the auto-targeting lasers out in orbit would vaporise us before we could jump to hyperspace. We may be here for weeks, even months."

"We can't do that," Bastila said suddenly. She coloured a little but met Revan's eyes. "I just know we cannot."

"You feel it?" Revan asked quietly. Bastila was so strong in the Force, she could sometimes feel things before Revan did.

"Yes," Bastila replied, her voice becoming dreamy as she stared at nothing. "It's like the clouds gathering before a storm, the sudden stillness of a star before it flares. Something is coming, and it cannot be stopped, only avoided."

Revan sighed and shrugged. "Then we must trust in the Force."

"'Scuse me," Mission interjected, "but on Taris, the only thing you can count on is your weapon and your wits. I don't see your Force doing much to help us out here."

"Mission's right," Carth said, metaphorically digging his heels in. "Anything we accomplish will be done by hard work, not your mysterious Force."

Everyone but the two Jedi and the Wookiee jumped when the door alarm chimed, because the Jedi had a presentiment of the intrusion a few seconds beforehand, and the Wookiee because he was very solid and had excellent hearing.

While Carth pulled his blasters and thumbed the settings, Bastila obeyed Revan's gesture and touched the door mechanism. When the door opened, she saw a hand attached to a datapad. To her relief, it was also attached to a living, breathing body.

"Greetings," smirked the adult Twi'lek male. "You are Stella, the winning rider for the Hidden Beks?"

"I am," Bastila replied, causing Carth behind her to grimace and drag his hands through his hair.

"I have a message from you, from Canderous Ordo."

"Canderous Ordo?" Revan repeated, coming up to Bastila. "Is that a Mandalorian name?"

"Yes, indeed, so you see it would be in your best interests to accommodate him."

"What does he want?" Bastila questioned him.

"I don't know, I'm just the messenger," the Twi'lek shrugged. "But the datapad should tell you all about it. My job here is done." And with that, he thrust the datapad into Bastila's hands and turned about, leaving.

As Bastila closed the door, she was grabbed by Carth whose other hand was in the process of shoving some of his stuff in a bag. "I don't care what the datapad says at the moment," he growled quietly as she made an indignant noise, "but if you can be traced to this apartment, that is not a good thing. We need to find new quarters, immediately."

Revan saw the logic in the statement. "Bastila, we are in hostile territory. We must take every precaution."

"Very well," huffed Bastila, rubbing her arm, "but next time, he should refrain from mauling me."

"I'll work on that," muttered Carth, rolling his eyes while Bastila couldn't see his face.

There wasn't really much to pack up, so it was done in short order and before they knew it, Carth had bundled all of them outside and began hustling them down alleys, through arches and over pathways, at such a pace and in such a way that any pursuer would have been completely puzzled. Revan knew she was, and was more than ordinarily annoyed by the fact that she was now out of breath and slightly sticky with sweat. Before she got any worse, she wrestled the new datapad out of a bag and switched it on, ignoring a sigh of frustration from their embattled commander.

"'_Canderous Ordo requests the pleasure of your company today at the Upper City Cantina to discuss a business matter with you to our mutual benefit and satisfaction',_" read Revan with soaring eyebrows. "Doesn't sound like a Mandalorian. Maybe he was using a letter guide or something. _'Come if you want a way off the planet. You haven't any other options.' _Hmm," Revan pondered.

"Obviously a trap," Carth said immediately.

"Perhaps," Revan said, and then to be obtuse and interesting, added perfunctorily, "But if you walk into a trap that you know is a trap, is it still a trap?"

"Yes," growled Carth emphatically.

"I know what you mean," Mission said, ignoring Carth. "It's not like he knows the two of you are Jedi, well, not likely, and he probably doesn't know about us very much. You could work this situation to your advantage."

Bastila frowned. "But could a Mandalorian be trusted at all? Are they not pitiless mercenaries and glory hunting savages?"

Revan winced uncomfortably. "They have their own honour code, and most stick rigidly to it. I think they don't mind murder, so long as it is done face to face. If you are not strong enough to fight for your life, you don't deserve it, is their motto. If this is one of the 'honourable' Mandalorians, he might allow us to use him while he uses us."

"Mandalorians are bloodthirsty monsters," Carth said unequivocally. "You can't make deals with rancors or krayts."

"And all pilots are drunkards and womanizers," Revan shot back coolly. "Generalizations do none of us good, Comm… ah…" she fought to remember his name, feeling it to be unsafe to mention him by his rank.

"Carth," he offered reluctantly.

"Revan," she nodded back before getting back on track. "We are five, and the Force is with us." She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, opening her blue eyes wider. "It's not like we have any other options, Carth."

Carth gingerly shook her hand off and sighed. "Sure, why not? I mean, how much worse can it get? I mean, other than being caught by the Sith and interrogated and everything…"

"That's the spirit!" Revan smiled, and asked Mission, who she recognised as their local guide, which way to the Upper City Cantina. Carth followed the conversation half-heartedly, believing already that they were doomed.

**(&X&) [some time elapses]**

Bastila sucked her breath in when she saw the figure sitting idly at the booth in the Upper City Cantina. Carth's head swivelled at the sound and made an accompanying angry noise, before he sidled over to Revan and bit out in an undertone, "That Mandalorian is working for the local crime boss, who's a high ranking member of the Exchange. We saw him shaking down 'clients' in the Lower City."

Taking this in, Revan whispered back, "That means he has connections. Let's not throw this opportunity away too hastily."

"I'm suddenly grateful you didn't join us in the Mandalorian Wars," Carth grumbled.

Revan ignored him and moved over to Mission and Zaalbar. "Could you remain here and be relatively inconspicuous?" Revan caught what she was saying and shook her head, missing the expression of annoyance from Mission. "I mean, well, it would be good if you could occupy yourselves while Carth, Bastila and I consult with Ordo."

"Sure," Mission said brightly, "I'm sure there's ever so many people here to steal from."

Shaking her head again, she ignored Mission and tried to match glances with Zaalbar. "Keep her out of trouble, would you? We don't need any more problems."

"Big Z's not my babysitter," Mission snapped.

"Fine. Keep each other out of trouble. This place is crawling with it and if we can leave without getting tangled, it'll be more than I dare hope for." The vibes she was getting from the people around her were making her very uneasy.

She nodded to Carth and Bastila as she made her way over to Canderous's table. They had briefly discussed their plan of action before, Revan insisting that Bastila take the lead of the conversation – she was, after all, the person Canderous was expecting to talk to – and that Carth should work on keeping his ears and eyes open and his mouth shut. It went without saying that he did not appreciate this slur on his self-control, but as he had had a lot of practise obeying incompetent superiors, he was able to swallow any protests and merely nodded.

"So, you decided to show up," Canderous Ordo greeted Bastila in a confident, self-satisfied voice.

"Did you believe I would do otherwise?" Bastila answered him tightly.

A mirthless grin flickered off and on the granite-like features. "No, not really. We both want off of this rock, and neither of us are doing it without the other. Speaking of which, who are your lackeys?"

Revan had noticed his gaze sliding off of her uncomprehendingly. Good. For the first time, she was grateful the Vulkars had plastered her face with cheap cosmetics.

"My pilot," Bastila motioned to Carth, who grunted, "and my servant," she gestured at Revan, who ducked her head, sighing fatalistically at her fate. "They each have useful talents. I also have a Twi'lek and a Wookiee, who will accompany me."

"Sounds like quite a menagerie," Canderous opined, a glint lighting up his eyes. "I thought Jedi didn't keep possessions or servants. 'Course, I knew they were bloody hypocrites."

Her head shooting up again, Revan glared at Bastila whose mouth was working soundlessly. "I… ah… what could you possibly mean by that?"

"What, are you dense as well as built?" Canderous scoffed. "The media is full of reward notices for you, Bastila."

"So why don't you turn her in?" Revan interjected.

Canderous regarded her for a moment. "Are you the one I should be talking to?"

Revan sized him up as well. "For what it's worth, yes."

"Fine," shrugged the Mandalorian. "I could hand her in to the Sith, sure, but I've got little use for them. And they are the dominant force here on Taris. Mandalorians don't tend to take the easy route."

"And your employer?"

"Davik is a welsher and a coward. There is no honour in working for him, and he has failed his side of the bargain. I owe him nothing more than a blaster bolt between his eyes."

"I see," Revan said in her most cryptic voice.

"Well? Are we going to join forces or not?" Canderous said impatiently.

"I don't trust Mandalorians," Carth contributed sourly.

"I don't see that we have any choice, but I would rather not place my life in your hands," Bastila had her say.

"I can say the same about you," Canderous sneered, "but I was talking to your friend here."

"I sense no deception from you," Revan decided, watching Canderous's scant eyebrows lift enquiringly. "Alright, we're in. Tell us your plan."

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Oops! Major lapse! I know I've been bad! I'm sorry, I've had so much trouble with this chapter that I thought I'd never finish it!**

**Some of you have problems with an overweight Revan. That's cool, I suspect I'd feel the same way if someone else wrote it and I read it. It's just more interesting to write this way. I'm going for fun in my writing – hence, I've changed the description of my story to 'Parody'. A reviewer brought up the point that highly disciplined Jedi would never allow themselves to get to such a state especially in the middle of a war – very true. So in my universe, the Jedi are a bit more lax. Again, 'parody' (and, let's face it, you'd have to be a pretty lax Jedi not to go to the Mandalorian Wars). It's more fun to write, and I'm not a terribly serious person. I have trouble writing violence (I know, what the heck am I doing here??). Basically, if you don't want to read this, don't. I don't read things I don't like. This is not a canon fic, anyway. I'm just having some fun, exercising my mind and gaining writing experience. **

**Now, I've changed my mind a bit about Revan. One of you said that she reminded you of Kathy Bates – no! No way! She's not as overweight as that (just chubby), and she's different looking, too. I'm going to say now that she's pretty, as well, although not beautiful. She's still lazy and sarcastic. In a way, this has been a good thing, because now I can stretch the realities (of Star Wars?? Realities?? There's an oxymoron!) even further than I originally planned. Just you wait till I write the Jedi Council! If any of you have difficulties getting that fixed in your head – relax. I've been having trouble writing Revan with that name, so I will change that soon. Everyone has a different name for Revan, right? Well, you'll see mine. One of them. Well, it's not mine originally. But then, none of this is.**

**I wanted to write a different Revan than everyone else's, but I'd like to make sure it's readable, as well. How about I make it a vote? Whoever would like me to change her to a studious, calm, responsible and thinner Jedi, now make yourselves known. And those who would like to see where I'll go with this version, also add your input. I'm only two chapters into her characterization, I can change them completely if needs be.**


	13. In Search of Accomodation

**Chapter Thirteen: In Search of Accommodation**

Canderous Ordo had left them after their collaboration. Carth and Bastila had gotten up and went looking for Mission and Zaalbar before they left the cantina to search for another place to encamp. Revan was still at the booth, wrapped in her thoughts. Canderous hadn't been chatty, but he had gotten the salient points across. He had access to a ship, a vehicle currently under the ownership of the employer he was now disenchanted with, but he knew just as well as Carth about the auto-targeting lasers in orbit. However, he added one nice piece of information – the reason why Sith spacecraft could enter and leave at will. Apparently, if you broadcasted the right code, the lasers would recognise you as friendly and leave you alone.

The catch? The codes were currently stored in what was now the Taris Sith Base. And it wasn't even as simple as get inside, slaughter everyone, find the codes and get out: they had to fork out a comparative fortune to get a droid just to open the bloody door! This was one of those times when Revan wished she knew something about explosives. Well, something useful.

Money wasn't a commodity they were overflowing with. As a matter of fact, after the purchase of food, clothing, Revan's new flat heeled boots, and some other sundry things, their combined finances were around the hundred mark - far, far off from the two thousand they would need.

Revan sighed. So many things to do, so little energy…

"Hey, Rey," Mission's buoyant face bobbed into her vision, cutting off her musings, "we gotta be going. Off hand, I don't know a place we can all stay, but I know somebody who'll know."

"You'll never call me 'Rey' again," Revan commanded.

"Did you just do that thing on me?" Mission asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Rey. Rey, Rey, Rey, Rey, Rey."

"Good, thank you, please don't do that," Revan requested firmly.

"Just making sure," Mission explained, shrugging.

"I think I'll have to start retraining Bastila," Revan mused. "She's obviously gotten out of hand."

"Excuse me?" came the refined tones she knew so well from behind.

Revan would have ignored Bastila if she had felt that the question had been directed at her, but she believed otherwise. Turning around, Revan and Mission were witness to what unfolded. Bastila was upright and stiff, glaring at a wealthy Tarisian nobleman who had, by the looks of it, done the local ale very proud.

"How dare you?" Bastila fumed, tossing her bottle blond head. "I am not a common harlot!"

"No, you're very _uncommon_," leered the noble whose fingers were firmly clutching Bastila's lower arm with a strength that belied his drunken appearance.

"Take your hands off her," Carth ordered coldly, appearing at the man's side and glowering heavily.

The noble glanced fleetingly at Carth's attire. "I saw her first, you second-rate citizen."

Revan was distracted and impressed by his enunciation. They must have good charm schools here on Taris, for the training to hold even through a fog of inebriation. Stirring herself out of her admiration, she then started to wonder why Bastila wasn't doing her little mind trick. A few glances around the barroom showed the reason why – thanks to Bastila's extremely audible voice, every head was turned her way, watching the free show.

"I am not a prostitute at all, you deviant rogue!" Bastila seethed, flapping her arm ineffectively until Carth stopped her by grabbing the man's arm in one of his large hands.

"Remove your hand, or I break your arm," Carth demanded.

"Is this man troubling you, madam?" a well built man in Tarisian garb approached.

"This half wit takes me for a whore!" spat Bastila, who then dealt with the situation as she should have in the first place; a sharp heel on the man's instep and a flying fist into his left eye, while she hooked a pointed toe around his ankle. While the noble was falling to the floor, the other Tarisian clothed man spoke into his wrist communicator while watching Bastila's actions appreciatively. In seconds two Sith in shiny armour marched through the door and over to the scene of all the commotion, saluting him. Carth, Bastila, Revan, and Mission all froze and various curse words floated through their minds.

"This man is drunk and disorderly," the man ordered the Sith, who kicked the prone man in the side and then each took an arm as the man continued, "show him what we do to troublemakers."

The next few seconds were only broken by the fading squeak of the man's shoes on the floor as he was dragged away and out of the cantina.

Approaching Bastila, the man's spoke to her, his voice softer than when he issued commands. "I am sorry that this happened, especially under our Sith command. I hope you will take my apology."

"That isn't necessary," Bastila demurred, trying to smile and swallow at the same time. "I appreciate your efforts, but I am no damsel in distress."

"You're certainly not," smiled the Sith Commander in mufti, his eyes appraising her in a way that Bastila would have socked him for in any other circumstances. "My name is Yun Genda," he extended his arm.

"Stella," Bastila offered nervously, shaking his hand.

"Stella," repeated Yun, smiling. "Well, Stella, I hope I'm not being too forward, but there is going to be a party tonight at this location for Sith Officers and invited Tarisian guests," he pointed to a location on the map of the district on the wall of the barroom, "and I would like it very much if you could attend, as my guest. Oh," he added as an afterthought, "and your father can come too." He grinned at Carth who looked suddenly ill. "He might even be able to find a nice position in the Sith – we can always use good men." He tightened his grip on her hand and turned it over, bowing and placing a light kiss on the top, before smiling at Bastila once more and turning, exiting out of the door.

"That was …nice of him," Mission said dubiously as she watched the doors close.

"Father?" Revan enquired of a now stony-faced Carth. "Do you often get taken for Bastila's father?"

"It's happened once or twice," Carth acknowledged sourly.

"And what does that make me, her mother?" Revan chuckled.

"More like her maiden aunt," Carth retorted snidely.

"Yeah," Revan agreed, placid. "I do look more like a career woman."

"This is pointless," Bastila said, recovering her wits. "We've had ample time to look for financial aid, now we need to find somewhere to stay for the night. I for one don't plan on spending it camped out on the Tarisian streets."

Mission opened her mouth to say something, but then tried to envision Bastila doing it rough in the places where she grew up and failed. "Never mind, my friend will know somewhere. We better go off. Zaalbar said we'd find him outside."

Once the group was outside and had collected Zaalbar, they proceeded to walk down the mostly deserted pathway. Mission led the way, as she was the only one that knew where they were going, but the group was mostly tight packed, as if for comfort. That impression didn't last very long as Mission tired of the quiet and decided to liven things up a little.

"So, Bastila, your new conquest is quite a hottie, for a human," she said, trying to be offhand but appearing instead a little sly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bastila replied shortly. Revan rolled her eyes. That was Bastila's prime defence against uncomfortable questions.

"Oh, surely you can't have forgotten your date already, have you? My, my, I didn't know Jedi could be so fickle. Poor Yun."

"That is ridiculous, Mission. I am a Jedi, I am not allowed attachments to anything, be it a sentient or possession."

"Who said anything about attachments? I thought you'd be more of the love 'em and leave 'em type. You know, because you're so easily bored."

"Your questions are repugnant to me," Bastila said loftily, watching Revan out of the corner of her eye and wondering if she would notice it if she tried to quieten Mission with the Force.

"Well, if I don't ask questions, how am I gonna learn?" Mission queried with an angelic look on her face. She could play the child when it suited her.

"That's enough from you, Mishie," Revan said indulgently, watching Bastila fume.

"Mishie? _Mishie_? What, did that neural disrupter fry your brains, Rey?" Mission said indignantly.

"Yes, it did," Revan joked, "and when I get worse, I'll start calling you Meshie, Mooshie and Mashie. In fact, I'll call you anything but Mushie."

"Is this revenge for calling you 'Rey'?" Mission asked, a plaintive quality to her voice.

Revan shook her finger at Mission. "Take it from me – you cannot make a nickname out of Revan that I will approve of."

Mission stopped and turned around, looking at Revan questioningly. "Okay, but I bet you don't want to be introduced as Revan."

Revan frowned in thought. "It's true that my name would probably be known by Sith soldiers… but do you really have to introduce me at all?"

Carth interrupted them. "Actually, Mission has a point."

"Gee, thanks, Carth," Mission said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

He ignored her. "I mean, Revan can't be your whole name."

Revan looked up. "Why not? Look at Malak."

Carth's head whipped around as if he expected to see the Dark Lord himself materialise in front of him. "What?!"

Revan had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Dammit, she wasn't Mission's age. "I mean, he has only one name. And it works for him. 'Revan' works for me."

"Just spit your damn name out," Carth snapped.

Revan eyed him broodingly. She kind of did want to spit on him at the moment. "I can't believe this. You are such a paranoid… I bet you think I'm a traitor now just because of my one name."

"I didn't say anything about a traitor," Carth pointed out, crossing his arms over his admittedly nice chest and frowning deeply at her.

"Hey, Grandpa," Mission had Carth's immediate attention, and a surplus scowl, "it didn't occur to you we have another source of information here?" She nodded to Bastila, who squirmed as Carth levelled an expectant gaze straight at her.

"I'm afraid I know little more than you," she admitted, "Master Revan has always been Jedi Revan in my memory. Nothing more." Bastila's eyes turned to Revan, who pouted under the sudden curiosity.

"Idiotic humans," moaned Zaalbar, "You truly wish to make things difficult, don't you?"

"A…." Revan sighed. "All right, I won't be difficult. There's only one nickname of mine I'm willing to divulge. My best friend sometimes called me Eva."

"Eva?" Mission tested it out. "I like it. I mean, it doesn't really suit you, but I like it."

"It's sure a heck of a lot better than Revan," Carth agreed.

"Hey!" Revan protested.

"Revan sounds masculine. You're tall, but you're not a guy," Carth said unnecessarily.

"You noticed?" she scowled.

"Hey, guys?" Mission interrupted again. "Sheesh, you guys can get carried away on any subject, can't you? We've got to get going!"

Mission's contact, one Doctor Zelka Forn, worked in a small, somewhat run down building that despite it's outward appearance, was tidy and clean inside, as medical facilities usually are. The smell of kolto, while a familiar smell, was so strong from the kolto tanks that it took a moment to get accustomed to. Revan wrinkled her nose when the smell hit the back of her throat and fought her gag reaction. _That would have been a charming display_, she thought.

"Hey, Doctor Z!" Mission cheered as she saw an elderly man setting up products on the shelves behind his desk/counter. "How's it going?"

"Mission!" the doctor's dark leathery face wrinkled into a worn grin that couldn't be other than genuine. "Why, you little scoundrel, I haven't heard from you in two weeks! If I didn't know you, I might have thought something had happened to you!"

"Well, it kinda did," Mission admitted, "but my new friends got me out of that one! But we're kind of in another fix – and we need some help."

It was plain to everyone else that the doctor's face had immediately gone from truly happy to wary. "And who are your new friends, Mission, and how am I supposed to help them?"

"This is Stella, Carth, and Eva, Zelka. They saved Big Z from the Gamorrean slavers," Mission explained, but the wariness didn't leave Zelka Forn's face.

Eva noted the tenseness on the man's face. By heightening her Force senses, she could actually see the fear running over his countenance like sweat. That was much too heightened a reaction to just three unexpected people showing up. "What are you afraid of?" she enquired, watching the rivulets of fear increase.

"I? Afraid? Madam, you are mistaken," Zelka said, his voice taking on a nuance of bluster.

"I am never mistaken," she returned in as eerie a voice as she could vocalize.

"Eva? What the heck are you doing?" Mission said hotly, watching her demoralise one of her long-time acquaintances.

Bastila shook her head at Carth's unspoken query. "If she concentrates, she can read basic emotions and feelings," she whispered to him. "He is hiding something."

"Tell me," Eva whispered, moving forward and into Zelka's personal space. "What connection have you with the Sith? Are you giving them information? Do you sympathise with them? I want answers, Forn."

To her puzzlement, Zelka did not become either flustered or defensive at her sudden accusations. Instead, he relaxed. "I have no connections, Madam. I am a doctor, and, therefore, a neutral."

Eva unfocused her Force senses from Zelka and noted a trail of what could only be called pain and suffering leading to a locked door. She grimaced for a moment – that was an excellent reason never to use her Force senses again, she got quite a mental scald. Stepping over to the door and placing a hand over the lock, she murmured, "Not nearly as neutral as you protest, Doctor."

As the doctor protested against her words, her expert use of telekinesis unlatched the door and she braced herself as she sensed dying life-forms. She stood at the threshold, gazing pensively at the figures in Republic underwear floating helplessly in several kolto tanks, and noted the air-tight cold storage compartments built nearby for those who kolto no longer had any power over. With a deep sigh, she dropped her gaze to her feet.

"Is there anything you can do for them?" Carth's gruff voice made her look up again, wondering if he was talking to her.

Having overcome his shock, Zelka relaxed and answered Carth. "I'm afraid there's nothing more anybody can do for these poor soldiers. All I can do is make them comfortable until the end."

Carth glanced at Bastila who shook her head and replied sadly, "All powers have limits, Carth. There truly is nothing that can be done," and as if no longer able to contemplate the sight before her, she turned around and walked out, to wait back in the main room with Mission and Zaalbar, who had glanced in but decided to stay out of it.

The doctor bent down near one of the kolto tanks and appraised the small holo-screen. He made a minute adjustment and would have walked out immediately, had Carth not stepped forward and made an uncertain gesture with his hands before plunging into words.

"For this, you have my thanks. It's … good, to know that at least some of them have fallen into compassionate hands," Carth offered in halting speech. Zelka nodded and left, leaving Carth to examine the kolto tanks more thoroughly. For some reason, it hadn't hit him before that only him, Bastila and Eva had survived the Endar Spire, meaning that everyone else had died. He didn't recognise any of the bodies, but it didn't make it any the less real to him. He spent less than a minute there, realising that the mission was top priority. There was no time to waste on feelings.

"So, Zelka, that's why we need a good place where we can hide from the Sith. I don't know how long we'll need to stay, but it could be a while," Mission finished telling Zelka what he needed to know; who they 'really' were, what they needed, and so on.

"I know a place where you could stay, Mission, but I don't think it's what you're looking for – and it comes with a price tag, I'm afraid," Zelka replied sadly. "Not for me, but for the man who lives there."

"What price range are we talking?" Mission asked nonchalantly.

"Two hundred credits, I think, will do him. He owes a lot of money to Davik Kang, whose smuggling runs have been completely halted because of the Sith runs. I suppose it leaves him with nothing to do other than hassle his debtors," Zelka said contemptuously.

"We can handle that," Mission decided.

"No, we can't," Bastila whispered to her. In answer, Mission dug in her vest pockets and brought out some credit chits.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare two thousand credits on you, now, would you?" Eva asked her, watching the proceedings with interest.

"I don't have that sorta dough… yet," Mission laughed.

"Where'd you get it, anyway?" Eva queried.

"You never get caught by Tarisian Nobles if you only take half of their credits," Mission informed her.

"Okay, then," Eva nodded in defeat, "Tell us where this guy lives."

Zelka directed them, or rather Mission, who knew the landmarks, to where Largo lived. There was more traffic on the pathways this time, so they were quiet as they traversed between the tall spires of buildings. Unfortunately, it hadn't registered in their mind that the desperate debtor to whose hideout they were heading to lived in the same apartment building as Yun Genda had indicated also held the Sith party tonight. And it was even more unfortunate that as they were approaching the entrance, Yun Genda himself was arriving at the location and noticed Bastila Shan. There was at least seven off-duty Sith with him – the sardonic expressions and straight shoulders were proof enough to identify them.

"Stella, what a delightful surprise," Yun said in a pleased tone.

"Ah, yes, it is, I mean, it's nice to see you too," Bastila stuttered while trying to lift the corners of her mouth. _Master, what on earth am I going to do?!?_

"Ah, you're the kind man who helped our girl, aren't you?" Eva said pleasantly, before she replied telepathically back to Bastila. _Go along with what I say. Start yawning really big._

After a moment while the frightened iriaz look was suspended on Bastila's face, she lifted her hand and politely smothered a 'yawn', after which she closed with a sigh and a blink.

"I don't know that I actually helped her," Yun had replied to Eva, smiling, "she had everything in hand. I've never seen a better right hook." He turned to Bastila. "Are you all right? You look tired."

Bastila stopped her shoulders from slumping in relief. "I'm not very energetic right now. I've had a big day," she admitted, privately considering her understatement.

"That's a shame," Yun replied, seeming somewhat crestfallen. "Well, you'd better go and have a good night's sleep. I'd like to see you later, though, if you wouldn't mind."

_Give him a fake communicator code, Bastila_, Eva's voice counselled in Bastila's head. As Bastila busily figured one out, Eva took note of the curious stares of Yun's companions and entwined her fingers in Carth's slack ones. _Do shut your mouth and stop looking murderous,_ Eva thought at him, not truly expecting him to hear her but feeling some relief in expressing her frustration. She was aggravated when the only change that had been brought about was that his fingers were no longer loose in her grasp, but clenched. Faced with the prospect of sprained fingers, she generated a small amount of power in her palm, giving him a shock comparable to static electricity. She decided that this did not bode well for the serious talk she was planning on having with him.

Bastila yawned again, but this time it was unscripted. "Please, excuse me, Yun, but I really must go now."

"Of course," Yun commiserated. "Till we meet next," he ended, jerking his head at his Sith companions and heading inside.

"He's certainly determined to make an impression on you," Eva commented to Bastila, shaking her fingers out of Carth's grip and facing Mission. "Mission, let's go find our night camp."

Situated on one of the middle floors was the flat where the man Mission dubbed 'Largo the Loser' currently cowered. According to Mission's pungent remarks on the short trip to the elevator and down the corridor, Largo had fancied himself as a clever punter, and had patronised all the swoop races on Taris for quite some months, using his utility funds for finance. His time had ended when his debts caught up to him, at which point he chickened out and, very stupidly, put his faith in the hands of a lone shark who was ultimately controlled by Davik Kang. So instead of getting rid of his problems, in actuality he paid off his debts with Kang's money, and, after a period of time, Kang wanted it back. With interest.

Largo may have been a stupid idiot, but he still had friends. Quietly stuffing him in an apartment and forcing him to stay put, they started scratching up money from wherever they could find it, without hurting themselves, of course. They had almost enough money to cover his debt and the likewise crippling interest, and now the fee that Carth and Co. would pay would cover the balance.

That is, of course, if they could pay it before being shot by Largo in a fit of nervousness.

"Sheesh, put down those before you hurt somebody!" Mission said exasperatedly as she got a faceful of shaking blaster pistols.

"Please, please don't hurt me! I'll do anything!" Largo pleaded, totally demoralised by the fact that a group of strangers had entered his apartment, by the door, and with the correct code. "Davik will have his money, I swear it! I just need a little more time!"

Eva produced some credit chits out of thin air by way of sleight of hand, more to distract Largo than impress him. "And a little more cash, eh? This should do it, but it doesn't come without strings."

"What… what do you want me to do?" Largo asked, mercifully lowering the blasters and attempting to regulate his breathing.

"First of all, stop looking at me as if I were a Sith Lord," Eva snapped. "We were sent by Zelka, who knows of your current situation and is doing his best to help you, Force knows why." At this information, Largo began to relax. "But in return for the funds you need to save your _life, _all we want to do is stay here for a couple of days, probably not more than a week. And you cannot tell anybody we are here."

Noting that the chances for his continued existence were getting better by the minute, Largo's countenance lightened and almost with jubilation assented, "No problem! You'll have to share the bedroom, but I suppose you're used to roughing it. The fresher's that door over there. I'd better get these to Davik right away!"

Largo accepted the credits and went to a drawer, collecting a small money sack from it. Eva shook her head at his naivety and inclined her head towards Mission, who was standing close by, and muttered, "Should we follow him for his own sake? I mean, a gizka could take that guy down."

Mission answered quietly back. "Did you see those two guys outside the lift? They're friends of his. They'll be with him when he goes to pay off Davik, Largo'll make sure of that. Sure, he's a twit, but he's not an utter fool."

Bastila yawned widely again, and stretched out her arms. Mission dragged Zaalbar over to the lounge and switched on the holovision. Eva rolled her shoulders and sent Bastila off to the fresher for a shower before she slept. She deliberately ignored the ticked-off soldier as long as she could, which wasn't long as Carth was apparently in a confrontational mood.

"I think we need to have a talk, _Lady Jedi_," he growled quietly.

"I couldn't agree more, Commander," Eva replied coldly.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Um, I have an excuse, I honestly do! It's the hottest it's been here in 70 years, (if you're wondering 'how hot that could possibly be' then think hot enough to melt – okay, okay, buckle – train tracks. That's what's been happening, no joke. There have been at least 35 cancelled train runs. Not to mention that I left a rubber glove outside for a week and it MELTED to the wood. No joke) and I caught a cold on top of it all. (Don't ask me how, I guess I'm just naturally contrary). I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It has a little more interaction than the last. I'm terribly peeved that while it takes me a Herculean effort to get this much out, other people write pages in a day! It's not fair! **

**In most FRevan fics I've read, Yun Genda is a slimy little so and so, so I've changed it, and him quite a bit, and made him a charismatic older guy. For a cult that takes it's philosophies from nature's cruelties, some of those Sith are fairly well mannered, or at least know their manners, when they're not trying to kill you. And I'm trying to blur the lines between Sith and Jedi a bit. There is, after all, in the creed of the Jedi that anyone can be saved, so it stands to reason that there can be some nice Sith out there as well. Well, niceish. Ugh. Not expressing myself well. Perhaps that's because I didn't really have a reason to stick him in there – I just did. Hmm. I promise to make sense later.**

**And if you're wondering about Mission calling Carth 'Grandpa', well, it occurred to me that she only called him 'old enough to be my father' because she thought it was an insult. Now it's only a fact, so she has to exaggerate to make it an insult. Does that make sense to you? It does to me, somehow.**

**I had to 'change' Revan's name. Because I've read so many fanfics, I'm starting to confuse myself when I type the name, so we're going to refer to her as 'Eva' from now on. I'm just going to use the excuse that my version of Carth likes it! By the way, it's not original. I got the idea from another fanfic.**

**I put Zelka in. Didn't bother with his slimy little sidekick. Man, I hate that guy. I'm thinking it was a mistake, but it's written and you get another sad bit – which kind of seems out of place to me, but I've lost my way a bit in this fic and it's not that easy getting back on track. I did say I would involve some funny bits about them earning money in this chapter, didn't I? Oops. That will probably be the next one. This is not a funny chapter. I'm disappointed in it, but I'm sick and tired of rewriting it, so I'll put it in as it is and move on. Hopefully, my next will be less cringe-worthy. **

**I'm not going to be updating as regularly as I did before. I simply have to read over my work several days after I write it, and it takes me forever to just write the darned stuff. But, do not fear. However long it takes, this fic will get finished! **

**Many thanks to .heart who indirectly made me look up the Mandalorians on Wookieepedia. It's given me a few ideas for my story, as well as stopped me from making more mistakes. In one of my ANs, I said that Canderous had to have been in his fifties, if he had been fighting for forty years. Well, apparently, Mandalorians get trained from the age of seven or eight. So he's pushing fifty. Well, he's still older than Carth! Wookieepedia's given me a load of cultural information. I can probably write out some lovely fights between Carth and Canderous, and Revan and Canderous. Take this as a lesson, reviewers, and if you spot a mistake, tell me! I'm amenable! **

**On that note, thank you to all of my reviewers! I love each and every one of you in a non-creepy way! **


	14. Duelling

**Chapter Fourteen: Duelling**

Carth and Eva retreated to a corner of the living room in their temporary hideout, while Mission watched the holovision with Zaalbar, and Bastila was refreshing herself in the shower. As far as Eva could see, Carth's face looked determined and angry. She was feeling something of those emotions as well.

"I'd like to know why the hell you suddenly think you're in charge," Carth challenged quietly.

"Maybe because I am?" Eva said sarcastically, "perhaps also because I think you're not up to the job?"

"For your information, this mission was completely changed when the Endar Spire was destroyed, and in case you've forgotten, I was part of the team that rescued you! As far as I'm concerned, you should sit back and shut up!" Carth may have been talking softly, but he certainly wasn't holding back otherwise.

"Really? Good thing it's not up to you," Eva said bluntly. "You have some nerve, disputing leadership with a Jedi."

"I lost most of my respect for Jedi in the Mandalorian Wars," Carth said bitterly.

"Really? How?" Revan asked cynically, "When we refused to join you, or when those who rebelled and joined you made everything ten times worse?"

"Both times," Carth replied unequivocally. "Both choices showed the failure of the Jedi. Firstly, in not protecting those you were supposed to protect, and secondly, do you really think that the Jedi who joined us would have fallen if they'd been supported?"

At those words, Eva's face lost colour. "I can't answer that, no one can. I'm not the entire Jedi Order, only one of their numbers, and I was not responsible for either of those choices. But I have been trained since my early childhood for situations including leadership under troubled circumstances, and excuse me if I don't think a disenchanted soldier with a wandering eye matches my qualifications."

At this, Carth choked. "Wandering eye? What the hell?"

Eva huffed. "Don't think it has escaped me how you feel about Bastila. I mean, come on, you rescued the unconscious maiden, were thrown into countless difficult situations with her. You get flustered when someone notices the vast age difference, and even I can see she's exceptionally beautiful. I don't exactly blame you, but she is a Jedi, and I want you to recognise that and _back off_."

"I…_what?_" Carth stammered, completely thrown off. "No! I mean, no! She's a teenager! I mean, what the _frack_?!"

Eva was regarding him closely. "Are you sure? No latent passionate fantasies in the darkest recesses of your mind?"

Regaining his composure, and holding tightly to his temper, he replied tightly, "No."

Trusting in her Force senses, which told her Carth was telling the truth, she sighed and admitted quietly, "I believe you. But I'm curious to know why you're so protective of her. I mean, it comes across really strongly."

Carth glowered. "She's a member of my team. I'm responsible for her wellbeing, and she's the one of us that the Sith want most. Forgive me for acting for the good of the galaxy."

Musing, Eva developed a theory aloud to the annoyance of Carth, who very quickly lost his tolerance for the subject. "I suppose it makes a difference that Bastila's a girl, too. Yes, I can see you having a hero complex. I mean, here you are raving about saving the galaxy, that's typical hero speak."

"I can't just be a soldier doing his duty?" Carth muttered.

Eva smiled deviously. "No. Everyone has hidden motives and agendas. The sooner you find them, the better you can place your people."

"That's called manipulation," Carth scowled.

"That's called strategy," Eva countered, "and we're going to need a lot of it if we're going to get back on track, and off of Taris."

"Speaking of which, we need to settle our differences," Carth pointed out bluntly.

"Good. I hope you can stop sulking long enough to talk seriously," Eva said.

Carth scowled again, but controlled his temper and returned, "And maybe you can stop taking cheap shots at me."

"I'll restrain myself from the pleasure," Eva promised dryly.

"I hope you'll also restrain yourself from getting into my mind?" Carth said accusatorially.

"I don't go into people's minds," Eva said loftily. "I don't fit."

"Don't give me that," Carth bit out angrily, "I heard you back there, and I don't want you doing it again!"

"Heard me? What did you hear?" Eva said, frowning.

"Does 'shut your mouth and don't look murderous' ring a bell? You were out of line, using your Force on me."

"You heard that?" Eva asked disbelievingly, one eyebrow lifting. "That's strange. I can see why you're upset… and believe me, I wasn't trying to make you think you were hearing voices out of nowhere," she said conciliatorily. "I was… um, letting off some steam. You really shouldn't have been able to hear it, it was a voice through the Force."

"Oh, no, sister," Carth said, taking a step back. "You aren't going where I think you're going, so forget it!"

"Take it easy, brother," Eva said exasperatedly, "I'm not about to recruit you. You're way too old."

"Thank you," grouched Carth.

"Hey, don't take it personally. Even Mission's too old to be recruited into the Jedi. We prefer under sixes."

"Cradle-snatchers," Carth said, brushing a hand over his eyes and dragging it over his chin.

"Prejudiced," Eva returned non-heatedly. "Actually, this is a good thing, for you, anyway. The fact that you may be a Force Sensitive is a huge plus for you, and means that I'm more likely to trust your instincts."

"Yippee," he grumbled. "Do me a favour; stop going on and on about the Force."

"Sorry, it's only been my focus since I was five," Eva stated plainly.

"Yeah, well, you don't hear me raving about speeders and spacecraft," Carth muttered.

"Very well," Eva said irritably, "There is the matter of leadership to be addressed."

"What is your suggestion?" Carth asked evenly.

"That I recognise your capabilities, and you recognise mine," Eva compromised reluctantly. "By all rights I should have undisputed control, but I will acknowledge that you have different areas of expertise than I do. In other words, we work together, and put a good effort into it."

"I'll accept that," Carth acquiesced unenthusiastically. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, glancing over at Mission who was still engrossed at the holovision. He noted Zaalbar's glistening eyes staring in their direction, and nodded briefly, a kind of 'all's well' signal.

"As for what we do tomorrow," Eva mused, grimacing slightly, "our first focus is remaining under the Sith radar, naturally. Bastila and I will work on that, but your vigilance, done subtly, would probably be a good idea as well."

"No shouting or tacky tourist impressions," Carth agreed, smirking slightly.

Eva bit her lip to stop a smile. "Yes, that's the basic idea. It would be good if we could convince the Wookiee to stay at home, being as conspicuous as he is, but I know of the culture; he won't leave Bastila's side because of the life-debt, and I don't want to leave her here all the time with the Sith in the building. We need to plan ahead of time and spend the least amount of time travelling."

"There's the issue of our cash flow," Carth pointed out, "we're going to have to make some credits quickly, if Bastila's right about this calamity coming soon."

They both turned their heads at the noise of the fresher door opening. Bastila emerged sleepily, clothed and with a towel wrapped around her hair. With the towel dwarfing her features, she looked even more childlike. Her grey eyes were slightly red-rimmed and her full lips curled downwards with the slightest pout.

"Master, Commander," she addressed them formally, before being forced to stifle a yawn with her hand, "I am tired, and in need of rest."

Eva gestured to a bunk. "Help yourself. Try not to snore."

Carth watched as a flicker of irritation ghosted over Bastila's face before she merely nodded and retired. "Do you just annoy her for the heck of it? She's really not so bad… sometimes."

"Have you noticed that Bastila's touchy?" Eva asked him. He nodded slowly, as she explained further. "In a Jedi Academy, or surrounded by disciplined soldiers, there is an atmosphere of calm, orderly regulation. Bastila operates well in such a situation, keeping to herself and according to others the respect and formality she wishes others to respond to her with. But Jedi are not always sheltered, and there is a lot of chaos in the galaxy, especially in these troubled times. The more I force Bastila to control her frustration, the better she is able to control herself in situations where she will really need to."

"So you're teaching her to control her temper by rousing it?" Carth asked, eyebrows raised.

"Practise makes perfect," shrugged Eva, stifling a yawn. "I think we should get some rest ourselves. We've a lot to do tomorrow."

"We should post watches," Carth opined.

"Okay," Eva said resignedly, "We can share three hourly watches. Zaalbar and Mission first, since she's obviously the brightest one here, then you, then me, then Bastila. Sound fair?"

Carth grunted and moved off to inform Mission and Zaalbar. Eva thought briefly of the shower before deciding she needed as much sleep as possible and, taking a blanket, curled up on the floor as far from the holovision as she could get. By now, she was an expert on sleeping on hard surfaces. Or, she thought wryly, one could say that she packed around enough padding to compensate.

**(&X&)**

The next morning, each a little more rested than yesterday, they dined on some of the supplies Largo had stowed away for his prolonged seclusion from society and bounty hunters. Eva was a little disappointed with the freeze dried rations, but like the rest, ate her share stoically, while trying to reconcile herself with the sheer amount of food Zaalbar could pack away. She made a mental note to reprovision before the day was over, or face going hungry.

Talking between mouthfuls, they all discussed ways of raising the necessary funds. Mission freely admitted that a day's take picking pockets would not equal two thousand credits, unless she was more than ordinarily lucky. Carth was loath to let her continue such dangerous practices anyway, and was unwise enough to say it. Eva calmed Mission down by explaining to Mission in a stage whisper that Carth was being overly cautious, as most aging commanding soldiers were, but that they had better give in to him rather than risk giving him heart failure. After the resulting small argument between Carth and Eva concerning their mutual ages, they had decided that the duel ring in the Cantina was the most obvious choice to start.

"I think I should be the duellist," Bastila offered, absently stroking the side of her belt where her lightsaber usually rested. "I am the youngest adult here, I have training in numerous martial arts, and I have the aid of the Force."

"Absolutely not," Carth refused, "the matches are televised. Who knows what Sith could be watching, and perhaps recognising you? After all, that Mandalorian did."

"And will they not recognise you?" Bastila challenged coldly. "Commander Carth Onasi, decorated hero of the Mandalorian Wars, you are certainly well known through the galaxy, though perhaps not so much in this sector."

Eva rubbed her hands together. "You have a point, Bastila, but Carth has not been splashed through the news reports like you have. And with a few cosmetic touches, Carth won't look anything like himself!"

Even with the reflexes of a desperate man, Carth could not escape the eager hands of three women. While Bastila bailed him into a corner, Eva recited a list of necessary products to Mission to buy or steal, giving her the remainder of their credits. He did manage to evade her just as Eva was closing the door, rushing into the refresher and locking the door, but the Force wasn't with him. Eva used her telekinetic trick on the lock and mechanism, merely glaring at the man sitting on the commode with his head in his hands. After a while, he realised just how lucky he was – neither woman thought of setting the Wookiee on him.

Before long, Mission returned, burdened with a black synthetic jacket, hair dye, makeup and a temporary, fast drying, deep tanning applicator.

_Now I know where Bastila got it from,_ Carth thought morosely.

"Easy there, you big wimp," Eva said, semi-consolingly, "it's only for today. You'll be back to your original glory tomorrow. Now, take off your shirt."

"Oh, sure. Feel free to ogle my body," Carth tossed resentfully over his shoulder as he turned around and grasped the hem of his garment.

"We are Jedi, Commander," Bastila rebuked him from the doorway.

"Which means we live vicariously," Eva interjected, purely to infuriate her Padawan, Carth was convinced. "Ooh," Eva mused as he slung off his shirt, exaggerating her voice, "we'll be doing some living today!" She was gratified by the darkening shades settling on Carth's face. Not the tightly packed muscles of Carth's upper body. She wondered if his lower body was as good. At least she knew he kept himself in good shape. _Very …_ no!

"Will I be including this incident in my report to the Masters?" Bastila's disapproval was made manifest in her tone.

"Nah," Eva returned cheerfully. "Most of them are guys, they wouldn't get this at all."

Bastila huffed as Eva mixed the hair dye and slathered it through an unhappy Carth's hair. Although the fumes nearly drove them all from the closed confines of the 'fresher, this was not the only torture Carth was forced to go through. Eva gave him specific and detailed instructions on how to apply the fake-tan, all of which he doubted he'd remember, though he'd promised to for fear she would demand to do the whole thing herself. She had pointed out that he needed to apply it _everywhere_ in case of the event that he got injured and needed to remove his clothes.

After a time that was entirely too long for Carth's taste, his hair was being inspected for missed colour patches and his skin was being admired in its new tan-brown magnificence. Feeling like a very tired animal being inspected at a show, he groaned aloud with relief when he was finally free of the poking and prodding hands and told to dress in his new black jacket.

"I think he actually looks pretty good," Eva mused to Mission and Bastila. "Girls, what do you think?"

Bastila pursed her lips – this time not in contempt but in an effort to check her mirth. "That skin tone… and the blond spikes… if anyone can pull it off, I suppose Carth can."

"I can't figure out if he looks _more_ like Bastila's father, or _less_," Mission said slyly.

"I can see I am going to have to be very wary around these females," Zaalbar noted quietly to himself, patting his own fur protectively.

**(&X&)**

They entered the Upper City Cantina separately and at intervals, Mission with Zaalbar, Bastila with Eva, and Carth with a scowl set firmly in place. Occupying a seat where she enjoyed a view of half the interior, Eva surreptitiously tracked Carth's progress through the room. First he glowered at a patron who took too slow to get out of his path, and hitching the bag on his shoulder, marched purposefully over to the large, fat, odorous slug-thing gelatinising in the duel set-up room. Eva bent and stretched her Force senses and unashamedly eavesdropped on the conversation.

"What do you want, fool? No more duels, so no more tickets. Go waste someone else's time, unless… do you come here to duel yourself?" Eva admired Carth's rock solid stance. Force knew every time she had compulsory conversation with a Hutt she had been awed in a way by the strength of their bad breath and general unpleasantness. Apparently, Hutts didn't intimidate Carth as much as makeovers.

"I want to duel," Carth agreed, "but I need to know more." Naturally, he was cautious. And brave. He was, after all, prolonging the dialogue, and thus, the discomfort as well.

"Fair enough," the Hutt nodded. Someone in the room narrowly avoided throwing up. "Duels are set up by me: Ajuur. I set two duellists up, the winner gets ten percent of the profits from the betting. No one dies, that's illegal now. Pfft. Duellists use either vibroblades or blaster weapons, though grenades and stun sticks are allowed as well."

"Vibroblades and blasters?!" Carth questioned with eyebrows raised, "and nobody ever dies? Why do I get the feeling you're trying to take me for a ride?"

Ajuur burped in irritation. This one wasn't as reckless as he looked – more fool him. "There are energy fields in the ring to prevent fatal wounds. You start at the bottom and work your way to the top. Purses get bigger as you get higher. You lose, you get nothing but bruises. Are you interested?"

"I'm interested," Carth assured him.

The Hutt ran his lazy eye over him. Again, Carth neither flinched or gave any other sign of repulsion. Damn, he's good, thought Eva.

"I haven't seen you before. And you're male. You need a good name. Something like… Mr. Mysterious."

The same fortitude of mind that had served him so far in the conversation prevented him from showing any adverse reaction to the name. "Mr. Mysterious…" he sighed, "I like it."

"Of course you do," snorted Ajuur, "I made it up. There are five duellists. I'll start you off easy. Your first opponent will be Deadeye Duncan. Come back in an hour."

With a slight grimace now curling his mouth, Carth left the less-than-pleasantly scented atmosphere and slouched against the wall close by where Eva and Bastila sat. "I have a duel in an hour with some guy called Deadeye Duncan," he offered without preamble.

"I believe I met that one before," Bastila said with distaste, discreetly pointing to a grey headed old timer mouthing off to some disinterested cantina patrons. "He was ridiculous, and talked about fresh meat, or some such nonsense."

Eva stifled a chuckle. "I do believe he felt threatened by you, Bella."

Bastila's forehead crinkled in annoyance. "I don't like that name."

"Why? It means beauty," Eva stated innocently.

"I don't like being patronised," Bastila sulked. "I am more than just a 'pretty child'."

"Naturally," Eva said in a tone that both soothed and insulted. "How about we do some training while we're here?"

"Why not?" Bastila said in her best sarcastic voice. "I am sure the cantina drunkards would be interested in various sabre forms."

"Stella, my child, there are many forms, and not all for sabres, or fighting. See Mission playing Pazaak with that gambler over there? She's actually damn good, but the luck is against her. We need the credits, so I want you to slip into a trance and use your Battle Meditation on the pair. In Mission's favour, of course."

Both Carth and Bastila looked at her in confusion and surprise. "But M…Eva," Bastila began, "Battle Meditation is for a battle!"

"And what else is Pazaak but a battle against fortune?" Eva said adroitly. "Besides, it will be good practice for you to try and concentrate through cantina noise. You won't always have a calm room to dodge into."

Bastila was caught in indecision for a moment, before she sighed and settled herself more comfortably, closing her eyes. As her breathing evened out and her shoulders slumped slightly, Eva yawned and commented to Carth, "Well, that's one of us occupied."

"You know, I had a thought: why didn't you volunteer to duel? You are, after all… special," he finished, not willing to risk saying the word 'Jedi' aloud.

Eva looked at him for a moment before glancing back at the gambling pair. "I'm a scholar, not a fighter."

"But I thought all of you were trained for it, despite your ...preferences."

"Of course I'm trained for it. So are you. You're just probably more in practice. After all, you were on the team that rescued me, right?" Eva replied, using his own words against him.

Carth gave up and changed the subject. "So what exactly will her Battle Meditation do for Mission?"

"Well, you know what the effects are, don't you?" Eva questioned. "Battle Meditation boosts your allies' morale – and depletes your opponents' will to fight. If Bastila concentrates hard enough, Mission's opponent will give in to despair even when he has the chance to make a perfect twenty. Good thing there are no observers."

"You do know that's cheating?" Carth queried wryly.

"Of course," Eva replied indignantly. "I'm not a half-wit!"

"And you think this is right?"

"I think this will expedite matters, and as you are so fond of pointing out, we are trying to save the galaxy."

"I suppose we can't be too picky," Carth agreed.

"Morality balanced with practicality, that's one of my mottos," Eva claimed.

"Really?" Carth glanced at her.

"No, I just made it up."

Carth decided the rest of the time spent waiting for his duel would probably be best spent in silence. He'd had enough inane conversations with Bastila, and for some reason, he hated losing to Eva even more. So his time was spent being quite miserable and sipping flavoured water – he didn't want to take the risk of alcohol clouding his judgement – or his aim.

As it turned out, it didn't really matter overmuch. After Carth got over his disgust at the announcer's corny openings and puns, Carth noted that Deadeye's shooting hand shook so much that hitting Carth was mathematically impossible. Wondering if Deadeye was suffering from some sort of withdrawal or simply riddled with disease, Carth put him out of his misery with a simple well placed shot between his eyes. Much to his relief, the protective fields in the duelling ring worked, and Deadeye was unharmed, albeit unconscious. Carth didn't make a habit of shooting old guys, and he actually felt a little guilty, though that didn't stop him collecting his tiny payment and arranging for another duel post haste.

"My next opponent is called Gerlon Two-Fingers," Carth confided gloomily to Eva, "So, since I beat a half-dead guy, I now get to fight a cripple. Perhaps, if I beat him, they'll send a ten year old Rodian to smack me down."

"So, you're complaining that your opponents are too easy?" Eva raised her eyebrows.

"I'd rather have a good fight, not a fore-gone conclusion," Carth groused.

"Heh, well, if you beat Gerlon, I know who you're fighting after that." Carth gave her a curious look. "You'll be matched with a woman."

Carth's crestfallen expression was laughable.

"But," Eva's voice broke in on his misery, "she's one heck of a fighter. Her name's Ice, and she's the third best duellist here."

"There are only five duellists, besides me," Carth retorted, unappeased.

"You're unbelievably thick," Eva concluded, disgruntled. "Anyone else would be pleased their chances of injury were lessened, but no, you want a fair fight! I hope Ice creams you."

He refused to speak to her for the remainder of the hour. Other than being desperately bored, he noticed Mission had made two hundred credits from her pazaak game before her opponent broke down weeping. Bastila must have been a little heavy handed with her meditations. Zaalbar was always within viewing distance of Mission, and whenever things started to seem like trouble, his looming shadow could dampen the most foolhardy nobles.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! I draw your attention to the duelling ring! We have a special presentation in store for you!"

Carth stood on one side of the ring, ignoring the spectators seated high above him and the annoying voice booming over the hidden speakers. He focussed on the tired looking opponent across the room who clutched a blaster pistol in his half-paralysed right hand. He had a look of some determination that Carth had not seen in his predecessor Deadeye – Carth decided not to let his prejudgment make him incautious.

"On one side, a man so tough – even a disfiguring injury couldn't stop his career! I give you, Gerlon Two-Fingers!"

Gerlon kept his face impassive even as the announcer mocked and laughed at his misfortune.

"And in the other corner, a newcomer hoping to make it to the big leagues – I give you, Mr. Mysterious!"

Carth stepped cautiously to the side as the match began, missing Gerlon's first shot by a good distance. Gerlon seemed to have a little trouble working the trigger system on his pistol, but wasn't given much time to improve as Carth peppered a line of shots across Gerlon's torso, making the struggling duellist rock back on his heels and fall to his knees, before he smacked his face and torso on the ground with a loud impact that had the spectators groaning in sympathy.

"Gerlon losing to a rookie!" The announcer cried gleefully. "Is this a sign that Gerlon's injuries are catching up to him? Or is Mr. Mysterious for real? You'll have to wait, and see!"

Carth walked back to the bar only to be intercepted by a woman with a short crop of ash-blond hair and frosty blue eyes that gave Carth the shivers. "I'm not here for friendly chit-chat," she murmured quietly, "so I'm just going to deliver the cold, hard facts. I'm Ice, and if you plan on getting into the ring with me, you'd better validate your health insurance." She matched his gaze, before turning a cold shoulder on him and going to wherever she came from.

Eva's knowing eyes greeted his right away.

**Author's Notes & Explanations: Hi there! Here I am again! I hope you enjoyed this instalment – now, if you like, read some additional comments on what I have posted.**

**Okay, here's my resolution to the whole Bastila x Carth thing. Am I right that 'frack' is the SW equivalent of "f**k"? I thought Carth might be startled into swearing here, although 'frack' just seems funny to me. I don't normally use swear words, but sometimes it's appropriate for the character and situation. 'Hero Complex' comes from 'Dream of a Lifetime', another parody on , written by Kawe & Wessie (Otherwise known as .heart and ). Check it out, it's quite funny, and I just hope they don't mind me using the phrase. And the way I get it – the Force is part of the life-force in sentients and animals and plants – so a cactus could be Force Sensitive. If you don't like the idea that Carth might be 'Force Sensitive', it's not important, so if you want, you can forget it.**

**I hate Hutts. They're ridiculous, and I don't know why George Lucas thought, 'what a good idea, I'll cast my gangsters as giant shell-less molluscs.' So I will be making as much fun of them as possible. Not Mel Brooks funny, but what the heck is that sewer creature doing here funny. I know I used the word 'gelatinising' in the wrong way, but, for some reason, it seems right. Apparently, a Hutt makes enough ooze on its skin to stop blaster bolts, so I'm assuming that's a lot of ooze. Ugh, I made myself feel unwell just thinking about it. It's like snot – it should never be mentioned!**

**If you're wondering whether the line 'I'm a scholar, not a fighter' is a bad pun, you're right. I had thought of 'I'm a booklover, not a fighter' but, they don't really have books in SW, do they? And forgive me for the 'ice cream' joke. I thought it was funny.**

**Hey, have you ever tried your username in an anagram generator? It's very interesting. For 'Alpha Cucumber', I got, 'A Curable Chump' and 'Curl Me A Hubcap', among others. Special thanks to Jen DeClan and Synyster Shadow – their encouragement is priceless, and they are doing their best to curb my whining and self-bashing, so that's good for all of you. All bow to my brilliance! (kidding! ;)**


	15. Ice Breaker

**Chapter Fifteen: Ice Breaker**

Carth refused to react to either his recent win against Gerlon Two-Fingers or the chilly chat with his expectant opponent, the frigid Ice-woman. Instead, he followed his previous returning behaviour and made straight for the bar, ordering a non-alcoholic drink and downing a gulp immediately, grimacing at the sweetened flavours, and studiously ignoring all people in his current vicinity.

Mission rejoined Eva smugly. "I took him for all he was worth," she confided quietly, mindful that there were plenty of sentients around willing to relieve her of her newly acquired spoil. "For a while there, I thought I was done for, but all of a sudden I just knew I couldn't be beaten. I think I've reached a whole new level as a Pazaak player."

"Nice work, Mission," Eva commended her, heartily approving of this interval from boredom and desirous of prolonging it. "You must have played Pazaak for years."

"Yeah, my brother taught me. Showed me what the fools and hopefuls do, and then how the pros played to win. He wasn't as good as he thought he was," Mission reminisced, "otherwise he wouldn't be in debt as often as not. He was a bit of a sucker himself, but his real weakness was… hey, you sure you didn't hex me or somethin'? I don't usually carry on like a protocol droid."

"I'll let you in on a secret," Eva returned good-humouredly. "My 'tricks' only really work on the weak minded. It takes a lot of effort for me to control someone of your determination, and you'd definitely know I was doing it. I could probably persuade you to do something you wanted to do already, but then, that would be something you could do, couldn't you?"

"So, unless your enemies are idiots, you can't use your mind tricks on them? What a waste," Mission said frankly.

"Tell me about it," Eva groused back. "Luckily, galactic oppressors always need minions, and minions aren't always the gifted children they think they are."

"But then, they wouldn't really know a lot, if they're idiots, would they?" Mission replied, engrossed in the subject.

"Exactly. So really, you need a gifted good guy to predict the movements and motivations of the gifted bad guy, and half the time, those methods are off anyway. Hence the multi-year long war we are now enduring," Eva shrugged.

"Sounds like a lot of trouble. Why can't you just vape 'em?"

"The official answer to that question is so that the bad guys can get the chance of redemption. The real answer is that it has been tried too many times to count and failed. They're just too powerful and have incredible unknown resources. The last time we tried to 'cut off the head of operations' was last year. The entire task force we sent were killed… Stella was just lucky she wasn't with them. It was the last in a long line of failures, but we don't give up. We'll try something different. We won't give up."

Carth's eyes flitted to Eva despite his best efforts. "B…Stella was almost in _that _task force?"

Eva nodded, an uncharacteristic frown settling on her forehead. "She was required for her battle meditation. Her control wavered, understandably, so she was left on the control ship to do what she could there. Her master at the time went on – and was eliminated personally by," she coughed discreetly, "the big M. She and the rest of the team coordinators were lucky to get away."

"Where were you?" Carth questioned bluntly.

"Taming beasts on Onderon," Eva replied flippantly. "My specialties weren't solicited by the Council, so I was sent over there to see that everything was all right. We do that periodically – the monarchy are actually descended from a Sith lord, and there are random voids of darkness on both the planet and its moons, not to mention a certain spirit of independence in both its citizens _and_ its beasts. I rate draxls one measure less evil than tarentateks," she grimaced, "fiendish creatures."

"Huh?" Mission questioned, having heard of neither beast. Even Carth was a bit at sea with 'tarentateks'.

"How long have you lived on Taris, Mish?" Eva asked, ignoring their puzzlement. "You know, all I know about you is that you're spunky, smart and have a big smelly friend."

"Well, I was born on Ryloth. I can't remember much, I came out here when I was four. I'm pretty much Tarisian now," Mission responded good-naturedly.

"Was that when you met Zaalbar?"

"Heck, no. I only met him, what, two years ago? It's been two years, Z?" Mission asked the Wookiee as he lumbered over from intimidating some hapless drinker.

Zaalbar answered her in his customary howl.

"Yeah, two years," Mission confirmed for Carth's benefit. "He was just standing there being roughed up by some Vulkars who had had too much to drink. I felt sorry for the poor guy and told them to back off, but one of them nearly slapped me cold. Z didn't like that much, and pushed him through the wall. Lucky for him it was a thin one. Zaalbar scared the others off – or his breath did. Honestly, he could use some breath mints. He is seriously whiffy."

Other than giving her a speaking look, Zaalbar ignored her insults on his hygiene.

"I guess your brother was surprised when you brought a Wookiee home with you," Eva supposed, grinning.

Mission's expression turned solemn. "Uh, my brother's kind of a touchy subject, you know?"

Eva raised her hands. "Fine, fine. So, you heard about Carth's next match?"

"What, with Ice?" Mission raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. And let me tell you, geezer, Ice ain't no pushover. She's got a real mean attitude. If she's still not as good as Marl, that's only because he knows how she fights. You don't."

"Marl is the one above Ice, isn't she?" Eva asked aimlessly.

"Yeah. He's pretty swift with his double vibro-blade, too. But Carth had better worry about Ice, instead."

"Maybe she had better worry about me," Carth said, refusing to feel aggrieved at the lack of faith in his abilities.

"What weapon does she usually fight with?" Eva asked Mission.

"Some really big blaster pistol. She's a good shot, too, but she also knows how to use the vibro-sword strapped to her back. Sometimes she'll switch to confuse her target. And because she fights men, she goes for the balls," Mission warned him with a straight face.

Eva sputtered a moment, and interposed, "I wonder what interference those protective fields run on injuries like that?"

Carth hated Taris. It was full of sadistic women.

Mission checked the chrono above the bar. "Well, Carth, you've got some time to kill. If I were you, I'd start remembering all I know about street fighting."

"And female specific weaknesses," Eva reminded him, surprising him a little. "Remember our weak upper body strength, and don't discount the strength of our legs. We go for more cunning, feinting movements rather than brute force. Hitting her face rather than her torso would be more psychologically threatening, but she won't be a pushover, if she's the only female duellist here. If she senses hesitation in you, she'll probably get in close to crowd you. If you come across as strong and intimidating, she's more likely to keep her distance to evaluate you."

"Those are good tips," he acknowledged.

"And if you get close, remember women bite, scratch, kick and head butt. Chances are she won't use her nails."

Mission nodded. "I'm pretty sure she carries knives."

Eva looked away and caught sight of Bastila's figure making her way through the throng of gamblers to them.

"Hey, where have you been?" Carth greeted her.

"There is no need for you to know everything, Carth," Bastila replied frostily.

"She needed a bathroom break," Eva explained, heedless of Bastila's delicate sensibilities.

"I trust you are in adequate condition for this third duel, Carth?" Bastila queried, mostly unshaken.

"I can beat up a woman," Carth assured her with a touch of asperity.

"From the little bit I saw of Carth's fighting skills at the swoop race, I have some faith in him," Eva replied to Bastila. "You will probably have seen even more, and the fact that we are all here is due in part to him and his proficiency."

Not unnaturally, Carth was left speechless at this unexpected praise. Bastila inclined her head and nodded. "I must give him his due. I was merely concerned that the stress of the previous days may have made some impact on his wellbeing."

Craning her head to the side, Eva noted, "I think Mission has already found another solitary sucker. For the sake of the galaxy, Stella, would you help the odds along? Unless you're too tired."

"I have controlled thousands of minds at once," Bastila reminded her coldly. "I think I can handle one weak-minded gambler."

As Bastila sank back into her seat and another meditation trance, Eva sighed and stretched her arms out. "Stella and Mish are earning their keep. You're duelling for credits. I'm starting to feel a little superfluous."

Since she upheld him a bit, Carth decided he could afford to be a little generous. "We can call you the task coordinator. After all, I was a little unjust to you before, asking if you shouldn't be the duellist. It's clear you're not built for it."

"Brains, not brawn," Eva retorted.

"I mean, can you fight at all?" Carth wondered, oblivious.

"Of course I can," she protested. "I may not be as aesthetically pleasing as Bastila, but I've years of martial arts training and strategy behind me. I'd back myself against you any day."

"Really?" Carth's disbelieving tone didn't bode well for their continuing friendship.

"Ooh, look, your time's nearly up!" Eva said with more cheerfulness than was warranted. "Better run and meet the Ice-lady. Be sure to leave a good impression."

Scowling, Carth moved off to prepare himself for the duel. Eva slipped off the bar stool and stretched her limbs – this was one fight she didn't want to miss seeing on the view screen.

**(&X&)**

"Ladies and Gentlemen, draw your eyes to the centre ring! We have a special presentation in store for you!"

Eva rolled her eyes at the salacious tone the announcer was taking. This was the reason spruikers never got any respect. After turning around and glaring meanly at the stranger who had jostled her in an attempt to see the view screen more clearly, she focussed on the flashy introduction and prepared to enjoy herself.

"Over in this corner: a woman with steel on her bones and ice-water in her veins! She's cold and quick as death itself! You know her, you love her, Ice!"

Eva studied the woman as she stood disdainfully on one side of the ring. Athletic and somewhat muscled, the woman wore her pale blond hair in what might be described as a stylized crew cut, slightly longer than average and intended to stand up mannishly. Pale blue eyes – or were they grey? – rested indifferently under drawn brows and heavy lids. A strong, aquiline nose jutted over a wide, thin-set determined mouth. It was patently obvious from her features that one didn't mess around with this woman without paying for it.

"And now, taking his first step in to the big leagues, the new rising star in the duelling ring, I give you – Mr. Mysterious!"

Carth looked almost as unconcerned about the whole thing as Ice did. Eva knew this was probably a facade, but she had to hand it to him; he made a nice figure loitering on the edge of the ring, blasters in hand. She admired his wide shoulders and tall stance. There was nothing wrong with looking, after all.

"Let the duel begin!"

At first, both combatants seemed to be wary of the other. They started circling each other like birds of prey for at least five seconds. After that, Ice charged forward aggressively while unsheathing her vibro-sword, dodging Carth's barely aimed shots more or less successfully and shortening the distance, making it far too hazardous to continue with blaster weapons, Carth's favoured weapon. Eva assumed that Ice wanted to disconcert Carth and take advantage of his weaknesses. All sound strategy, of course, but it was based on an assumption. As Eva watched Carth unsheathe the blade on his own back, she surmised by his movements that while he might not be an expert with a blade, he wasn't a novice, either. Standard Republic training was responsible for that, she theorized.

He was doing a creditable job of blocking her swings, actually. Eva nodded approvingly as she saw Ice's strength falter after putting a huge effort into her first attack. Well, really, Eva thought, just how good could these duellists be if there were only five? No wonder the patrons had started to get bored.

After a good five minutes of stymieing Ice's every attack, Carth suddenly fought back with hard, wrist shattering strikes. Ice was beaten backwards and her blade torn from her grasp. Unwilling to accept defeat, she balled her fists and gestured tauntingly to him. Eva groaned when Carth discarded his own blade and leapt at Ice with gloved hands. The audience loved it, though, and were shrieking and stamping.

Her eyes locked on the pair now struggling in a fierce embrace, Eva looked to see if the so-noble Carth could hit a woman. She observed him landing several blows to Ice's lower body as well as some critical nerve hits, while sustaining some hits to the face and narrowly avoiding a groin shot, also watching out for several blades that just seemed to spring into Ice's hand. Finally, either tiring in strength or in patience, Carth grappled acrobatically with her and tossed her into the air, forcing her to crash her back into the ground. Ice struggled to get up, but eventually gave up, mouthing what Eva was certain were insults specific to a certain Republic soldier, who stood triumphant above her ignoring the whistles and cheers from the spectators.

He was sporting a lovely shiner and fat lip.

**(&X&)**

While Carth was being cleaned up in the rudimentary duelling ring med bay, Eva discreetly counted Mission's winnings. Generally the Twi'lek was careful with how much she won, choosing to cultivate the sources rather than plunder them just once, but time being short, she had made a killing and Eva wanted to know if, matched with Carth's winnings and the small amount she had bet on him each time he fought would make up enough to buy the astromech droid they needed.

"Well?" queried Bastila impatiently as she stood in front of Eva, screening the view of the loose credits from the rest of the room.

"I think that's about it," Eva said in a satisfied tone, "we can pick up the astromech immediately, fish around for some raid-appropriate gear and visit the base in the morning."

"You make it sound like we're an inspection patrol," Mission spoke up from her position, seated next to Eva.

"There's no 'we'," Eva replied. "Stella can't go, it's too risky, and Zaalbar is too noticeable. I can't leave them alone for extended periods of time, because Stella gets nervous, so you have to stay and make sure they play nice."

"Great. First I need to be baby-sat, and now I am the baby-sitter!" Mission grumbled.

"I do not need to be taken care of by a girl four years my junior," Stella cut in.

"You will do as I ask you," Eva merely replied.

Bastila pursed her lips in an effort to stay silent. She now had no idea why she had missed Revan before. Anything was better than being treated like a half-wit servant.

"Man, and people actually want to be Jedi?" Mission questioned, winking at Eva.

"We serve others, not ourselves," Bastila told her coldly.

"Must get pretty tiring," Mission commented. "Do all of you have crazy names?"

"That's so redundant coming from you," Eva smirked. That ended that conversation.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Man, with the time I've been gone, I should have written twenty pages by now! But, unfortunately, the Dark Side of Star Wars Fanfiction (otherwise known as Writer's Block) has made a temporary nest in my cerebral cortex. There isn't a pest control company for that type of infestation. So, FTRR (heh, sorry, For The Right Reason) will be sparse and probably not terribly funny. But, little by little, it will be moving ahead. Yes, that's right. Even if it takes me five years (which I sincerely hope it doesn't) I will be finishing this. **

**For those of you who didn't like the fight scene – well, neither did I. I'm just not good at writing fight scenes – yes, I do know what Star Wars is all about, thank you very much – so I thought I might be able to disguise it's crapability by describing it from Eva's point of view. If that didn't work, well, I'm sorry. I had thought of making Carth lose the round, but well, it didn't work. **

**So, in essence, there's not a lot of point to this chapter and I'm not happy with it, but I am happy that I finally managed to finish it and hopefully move on to better things. Consider this an aberration. Oh, and if you actually did like it, disregard everything I just said. Heh.**


	16. Droids, Doors and Dimwits

**Chapter Sixteen: Droids, Doors and Dimwits**

After their interesting time in the cantina, Eva's eyes lit up as they approached the droid shop. Following behind her on the Taris walkway were Bastila, Carth, Mission and Zaalbar. Stepping across the threshold revealed droids in various stages of completion, or parts laid either haphazardly or neatly across several metal benches, or stuffed into plasteel containers and lockers. Eva pored over the technological wares, a pleased grin on her face.

"Is this her normal reaction when she sees robot innards?" Carth asked Bastila quietly behind Eva.

"I've often thought that she was much more comfortable with droids than humans," Bastila admitted in a rare moment of completely unfiltered sincerity.

"That's a strange way for a Jedi to be," Carth commented.

"Strange is a mild word for my master," Bastila frowned, and then stared at Carth. "I didn't say that."

"Got it."

Carth watched Mission indulgently as she began rooting around in the 'bargain bin', giving what she deemed 'items of interest' into Zaalbar's paws, which Zaalbar then inspected and grunted or shook his furry head, as he deemed fit. Bastila hovered in the middle of the room, hands kept firmly at her sides. She was not mechanically inclined in the slightest, and had a distinct aversion to any hazardous fluid that might stain her skin or clothes.

The Twi'lek behind the counter was bound to draw stares – not only were her lekku very colourfully decorated, but unlike the rest of her kind, she was not dressed as skimpily as possible, On the contrary, she was wearing coveralls a few sizes too large, and randomly decorated with oil spots and some other mechanically friendly liquids. As her eyes followed Eva, her face furrowed in some anxiety, but when she spotted Mission tagging behind Carth she relaxed noticeably, even releasing her breath in a sigh.

"You are interested in droid parts? I have a level six intelligence module from Syntech, if you're interested, or perhaps you're more into Denja defense fittings?" the Twi'lek woman spoke in Huttese with a voice that was pleasant, albeit loaded with an accent that many humans despised.

"Mmm," Eva replied, musing over a part for a moment before looking up and smiling gently at the woman. "You're the proprietor?"

Imperceptibly moving her shoulders back, the Twi'lek nodded,"I am. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Not at all," Eva replied, a bit of a loss at the depth of the woman's wariness. "My name is Eva."

She thawed out a lot at this civil introduction. "I am Janice Nall. I'm sorry if I seemed a little abrupt, but it is very hard for a Twi'lek to run a store here in the Upper City. I guess eventually I'll just get used to it."

"Why are you having problems?" Carth asked, genuinely curious.

"Humans don't like to see Twi'leks running businesses. They prefer us to stay in the cantina dancing," Janice grouched. "We're lucky to be allowed here at all."

"You'd think people would be a bit more tolerant of others in this day and age," Carth moralized, "I guess stupidity and ignorance will never go out of style."

"Not that I'm disagreeing with you," Eva murmured to him, "but you're starting to sound like Stella."

She ignored his sound of disgruntlement and turned to Janice, discreetly handing over two thousand credits and a data chip. "Actually, I'm doing an errand for Canderous Ordo. He sent me to pick up the new astromech droid for Davik."

Janice smiled, "Oh, you should have told me sooner! I'll go get him – he's the best I've ever had!" After securing the credits and verifying the information on the data chip, Janice walked into a back room to fetch the droid.

Eva clapped in anticipation, prompting stares from the others. "What?" she asked.

"Here he is!" Janice announced happily, being tagged by what looked like a round, mobile tea-table. "This is T3-M4, the most absolutely top-notch, grade one droid in the Outer Rim! He's battle ready, adept at all types of security, computer ready and even self-repairing! It's a pity to let Davik have him, but that's my life. Droids come after my welfare."

"Oh, my, Force," Eva said unbelievingly, "is that an AM20 astro-navigational unit? I ordered one of those three months ago on the Holonet and still haven't got it!" Then she realised she had been away for two and a half months.

"Yes, it is!" Janice said proudly. "Whatever ship you have, chances are T3 can fly it anywhere you want him to."

"Excellent," Eva mused. "Of course, being an astromech, there's no vocoder." It was one of the reasons she didn't like astromechs so much: they could only speak in musical tones, having no capability of actual speech. Whenever an astromech had something to communicate to you, it came out sounding like the product of a crazed music composer on drugs.

"No," Janice admitted, "but the Astromech language isn't all that hard to learn. I can give you some tips, if you like."

Eva held up a hand. "I know enough to get along. So he knows he's mine now?"

T3 suddenly let out a deafening cacophony of beeps and whistles, signifying that he was aware he had a new master. Wincing, Eva felt for his volume button and turned it down. Turning around, she shook Janice's hand.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," Janice smiled.

"Likewise. And just a tip – the people on Taris seem very stuck in their ways. You aren't going to get them to change, so, if you can, you have to adapt yourself. You might see a bit of improvement if you spoke Basic to them. They'll still treat you like dirt, but it might help until you have enough credits to move to a more sane, friendly planet."

Sighing, Janice nodded and frowned. In halting Basic, she revealed, "I have family here. But yes, it must be me to change. I know they won't."

"Oh, hey," Mission interrupted sheepishly, "I'd like these? They came from the bargain bin."

"Oh, yes?" Janice smiled at her possibly-distant relative. "They were half price to start, and for a fellow Twi'lek, I'll take it down by one more half. Sound good?"

"That'd be great," Mission said, handing over the required amount. As Janice wrapped her purchases, she whispered to Mission in Ryl, the native Twi'lek tongue, "Steer clear of the old man across the street, preaching to the locals. He's bad news, he hates anyone who isn't human."

"Thanks for the tip," Mission replied, handing the bundled technology to Zaalbar who clasped the heavy package easily in one paw, barely noticing the weight as he turned, following the others outside. Mission grabbed his free paw to 'steer' him clear of the man she had been warned about. It was fairly obvious which man Janice had told her about: an elderly man with wisps of white hair straggling from his scalp was raising his quavery voice to call out stilted slogans like "The evil walks among us!" and, "A plague has hit the streets of Taris!" If one bothered to listen to the small crowd questioning him, it would be revealed that this evil and plague was none other than aliens, or, to be specific, any sentient species other than humans. In all likelihood, this man's idea of mercy towards 'aliens' would be a 'humane cull'.

Eva disliked the sight of him. "I find such men despicable. But Janice was right… such men are bad, they can cause incalculable damage. He's spreading hate and fear – which is identical to what the Sith do."

"Now who's sermonizing?" Carth inquired facetiously.

"Comes with the profession," quipped Eva, appreciating the comeback.

After visiting a few shops with cheap items, they settled back at Largo's hideaway apartment for what would be their last night there. Like the greased movements of a machine, the group disbanded and occupied themselves. Mission headed directly to the holovision, Zaalbar treaded over to the workbench and started fiddling with the new purchases, T3 headed over to a corner and entered into a sleep mode while still able to listen for commands, Bastila headed to the shower and Carth piled the bags of shopping on the table before sinking down into a chair. Eva moved over to the kitchen pantry and rummaged around, selecting only the tastiest options – which were pretty tasteless.

"One day, when I'm too old for missions, I'm going to set up a complete line of packaged foods that taste better than parboiled shyrack," Eva vowed humorously, dumping her choices on a spare patch of table and preparing some six packets for Zaalbar.

"But Jedi can't have possessions, and I bet that means businesses as well," Carth objected lazily.

"If I donate all the profits to the Jedi, I'm pretty certain they'll look the other way," Eva said cynically, "considering they were disappointed with what funds the Senate made over to them this year."

"Sounds like a plan," Carth yawned, "the Fleet could use all the funding they can get."

"Yeah, the Jedi feel the same way," grinned Eva evilly.

Mission butted in, the 903 choices on the holovision obviously not good enough for her. "Hey, do you think if the Republic had granted the Sith funding with the condition that they could only fight Jedi, not ordinary Republics, do you think this whole war would never have happened?"

Carth snorted. "We would never do that. The very idea is ridiculous."

"The Sith don't have a habit of keeping their bargains," Eva said gently, "and I doubt many people would appreciate their hard earned taxes subsidising their bizarre rituals and messy sacrifices."

"Whoa, they _sacrifice_? What? Humans? Aliens? Gizka?" Mission was eager to hear the answer.

A slightly grim expression crossed Eva's face. "Mission, the Sith will sacrifice just about anything if it gets them towards their goal – life has no value to them. They - or at least the calmer ones – justify themselves by saying that they're following nature, survival of the fittest, the example of beasts. And in doing so, they sacrifice not only others, but themselves, their humanity, or sentience."

Mission frowned in concentration. "So you're saying that the Sith are no better than animals?"

Carth nodded in agreement.

Eva shook her head. "Even under the power of the dark side, the Sith cannot be viewed simply as animals that need to be exterminated. They hold a danger to innocent life, but, in some ways, they still have rights as sentients themselves. You have to be wise enough to see from many different viewpoints. And, although it may be considered heretical of me to say, the truth is not all Sith are evil."

"What?" Carth was incredulous. "How can you say that?"

Closing her eyes in sadness, Eva sighed. "It's hard to explain… I doubt I could tell you so that you would believe me. It's something you need to experience. There are very few things in the cosmos, Carth, that are completely evil or completely good. Black and white, dark and light… they're very rigid terms, unfitting for something as mutable as a mind."

"In other words," Mission opined, "people in glass buildings shouldn't throw stones."

"Beware of judging others, for fear that you may also be judged," Eva replied gravely. "It is the ultimate arrogance to cast judgement on another."

"Which the Sith do all the time," Carth pointed out.

"I know," Eva said, resigning the argument for the time. She gave Zaalbar his prepared snacks, laid out packets for the others and miserably consumed her own, experimenting with the Force to see if she could numb her tastebuds. After that, she headed to the corner in which T3-M4 currently resided and slid down onto the floor.

"Greetings, T3-M4," she said quietly. "You will have been told by Janice Nall that you were intended to go to the sentient Davik Kang. Instead of that, I have bought you and am now your new master. This will be good for you, because Davik is a crime lord, and I am a Jedi. Despite what many people think, I know that droids have evolved far enough to have a moral system built in, and I am assuming yours is set to what is just. Is my assumption correct?"

T3 burbled an affirmative.

Eva smiled despite herself. In a weird way, the little guy was kind of cute. "Tomorrow you, I and the sentient Carth Onasi will be on a mission of great importance. We need to infiltrate the Sith Base here on Taris to get the launch codes. Your primary job is to get us in there. After that, we can do the rest, although you can help if you like. Do you find any potential conflicts with the scenario I am projecting?"

T3 paused a moment and requested more information about the category 'Sith'. Eva took out her datapad and helped T3 connect himself with it, transferring some files pertinent to the subject. Immediately, T3 chimed out a response to the effect that as well as his technological expertise, his weapons arsenal was at her disposal as well.

She smiled and couldn't help patting T3 on the top. "Thank you, T3. Signing out."

**(&X&)**

Eva quickly pulled the thin grey full length jumpsuit over the light armour she already wore, buckling a vibroblade harness over it, and sliding the single blade home into its sheath. Carth was dressing in a similar fashion in the refresher. Eva had explained yesterday that though they planned to get in and out of the Sith base quickly and without attracting attention, it was necessary to take some steps to prevent identification. So the grey jumpsuits would conceal their figures, and the fitted hoods complete with cloth masks would prevent their features from being seen. She had painstakingly cut and stitched the masks from material of a similar colour to the jumpsuits. They had decided asking for concealing masks from vendors as it would probably attract too much attention, but Eva had been entranced by the idea and had set to work overnight, inspired. They were designed firstly to provide the best vision and hearing possible, and only secondly to disguise. What could she say? She had a very active mind. At any rate, they would also be useful for shock value – Eva had noticed how the Sith used their facelessness to intimidate. She hoped the colour would blend in with the walls, and light grey leather gloves would protect them from leaving both fingerprints and DNA.

As the refresher door opened Carth emerged from behind it, completely dressed in his new outfit with his blaster holsters over the suit, and flexing his hands in his new gloves. "These masks are really good. You're surprisingly good at sewing, Eva."

"Yet more proof that Jedi can be feminine," Eva returned slyly, referring to some crack Carth made some time ago.

Were his hair not encased in folds of fabric, Carth would have run his hand through it in embarrassment. "I'm sorry about that. It was just…"

"Eh, forget it," Eva brushed it off. "We've got a base to infiltrate, we should put all that aside. My bad for bringing it up."

Mission picked up a carry bag and started to put things in it.

"You're not coming with us, Mission," Eva said firmly.

The teen rolled her eyes. "I know that, I'm not deaf. But you're gonna need some firepower. Just a few bits and pieces."

Carth thought a moment and shook his head briefly. "Nothing we can't carry on us. We're going to be sneaking around, we need unhampered movement."

Mission upended the bag, scattering objects over the table. "Then choose some stuff and put it in your pockets! Sheesh!"

Chuckling a little at the girl's behaviour, Eva rummaged daintily in the small pile, mindful that if they were all primed, the contents could not only obliterate the room, but probably the entire building. "Another thermal detonator? Now that's what I call overkill. We want to be stealthy, not stupidly slaughterous."

Without raising her eyes from her datapad, Bastila said, "Masterful alliteration, Master."

"Bravo, Bastila!" Eva cheered, "Sardonicism suits you."

"You're giving me a headache," Mission said pointedly, "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"Acknowledged," Eva said carelessly, "T3?" The astromech glided towards her with a cheerful chirp. "Happy character, aren't you?"

Settling a targeting visor over his eyes, Carth followed Eva out of the apartment and to the elevator. The Taris sun hadn't yet made it over the peaks of the buildings; they had decided that dawn would probably be as good a time as any to maximise the weaknesses of the human guards. Carth had opined that if there was such heavy security at the Base, chances are that the Sith had stationed battle droids within as well as human personnel. Eva had told him not to worry too much about it. He had grunted and shook his head, obviously asking himself how anyone could be blasé about battle droids. He remembered his own nasty experiences with them.

Mission had also wondered how they could travel around the city wearing such strange clothing, not to mention masks. Shrugging, Eva said that since the world was undergoing an invasion by the Sith, albeit a fairly peaceful one, everybody would mostly be concerned about their own health, not the dressing peculiarities of strangers. Not to mention the fact that harassing intimidating strangers would be pretty much deadly now. Carth had wanted to object and reveal the disdain he had received from the locals just because of his orange jacket, but had wisely refrained knowing it wasn't terribly good for his image as the leader.

In any case, there were very few people around at this time, and those who were had other business to attend to. Eva was a little disappointed, as she had come up with a ready excuse. She shook herself mentally; she was being very childish.

Halfway to the Sith Base, Carth stopped and drew Eva into a slightly concealed corner. Unsure what he wanted, but willing, Eva followed him. T3 glided after them, his uncomplicated mentality curious as to what was happening.

Carth started pacing. "Eva, I know you're a Jedi, but are you sure you're up to this? All the Sith in there are trained in combat, and the battle droids are worse. Please tell me you're not going to be a liability in there."

Sighing, Eva began counting on her fingers. "Okay. One, I have the Force. If necessary, I can use it in ways you can hardly imagine to cause all sorts of havoc and destruction. Two, I have had training. Believe me when I say I can handle myself. Three, I'm intelligent. I use my many abilities to maximise my chances for success. Four, I have a very strong will to live. It's amazing what one can do when backed up in a corner. Five, I have extensive experience. I've probably been on more missions than you. Covert ones, too, so I have experience you don't. Six… do you really need me to go on?"

"I just," Carth began uneasily, "well, it's not like with the Vulkars. They were untrained misfits."

"I understand," Eva nodded, "you have pre-mission jitters. Let's agree on something. In there, you look after _yourself_ first and then me after, okay? And every time you look around, I'll be fine. I promise." She bent down and rested her fingertips on T3. "Now, do _you_ have any complaints about my competency?"

T3 blatted and blurped, admitting that when she had hooked him up to her datapad yesterday he had taken the liberty of downloading some files she hadn't specified, some of her case files included. He told her that the risks he estimated she would be taking today were not as high as some of the other missions she had undertaken, so he was confident the mission would be a success, barring extraordinary circumstances.

Carth's aggravated voice broke into the conversation. "You know, I flew with astromech droids in countless starcraft, and damned if I was ever able to make an elevated conversation with them. I can understand the basics, but what I hear from that little droid is a lot of noise and not much else."

The said droid made a rude noise and chimed at Eva for a moment.

Eva giggled and said, "T3 promised to communicate slowly for you until your lamentable ignorance is rectified. Man, I love this droid."

"Great. I'm being patronized by a droid."

"But isn't that wonderful? You meet with so many subservient droids, it's refreshing to find one that doesn't metaphorically bow and scrape."

"That's your opinion," he growled pointedly. "Look, we're wasting time. We need to get to that base."

The remainder of the trek to the base was completed without further conversation or trouble. Eva snickered quietly as T3 moved close to the door and started to do his computerized lock-picking. Why the Sith put all their faith in the security system and didn't even place a guard to monitor the situation was beyond her. It's not like they didn't have enough of their low-ranking soldiers swaggering aimlessly down the streets.

Carth refrained from fidgeting for the entire three seconds it took for T3 to break the code on the high tech door. With the slightest shifting noise, the portal opened and revealed an elevator that was designed to take people up a level into the building above. When T3 trundled in behind them, Eva calibrated her wrist comm. to his receptor module while Carth reached up to the elevator roof and removed a panel, heaving himself up to disappear out of sight onto the elevator's roof.

Staring up, Eva briefly contemplated her methods, before motioning T3 over and clambering onto the suddenly unhappy droid. She ignored his discordant complaints as she hooked her hands firmly on the edge, an exasperated Carth lending a hand by grasping the back of her collar and heaving. "Now who's pulling your weight?" he groaned, as he braced himself on the flimsy partition with his other hand gripping the elevator cables.

"Shut up," Eva growled, scowling. "I'm not _that_ heavy."

"Sure," Carth returned quietly, suppressing a smirk.

Once they were both on the roof, they sought out and found the ladder rungs on the side of the elevator shaft, Carth climbing first. They only went a little way, seeking out the ventilation grates that normally opened up to the shafts. Once found, Carth carefully swung it open before crawling inside, Eva following him and shutting the grate behind her with the aid of the Force.

This had been the best way that they could formulate to circumvent the inevitable elevator trap. Once moving, the elevator usually activated a visitor alert, turning on cameras and drawing attention. By heading to the security centre this way, they had a better chance of entering undetected and keeping their presence a secret from the majority of the base workforce, though they could have done without the sheets of dust that lay on the floors of the vents, just waiting to be stirred up.

At first, Carth thought he was being an idiot, crawling around in vents with absolutely no idea where to go, and was bitterly regretting agreeing to 'wing it'. But every now and then, Eva would tap on his boots, either the left, right, or both, to signal which way they should go. He didn't believe that she could possibly have a clue as to where they were going, but soon enough, they were hovering directly over the main security desk in the Sith Base.

Eva pushed him up further so she could see through the apertures in the vent. With extreme difficulty, Carth turned around more-or-less silently so they were face to face, glancing down at a lone Twi'lek monitoring some screens displaying camera shots. Eva bent her face even closer to the floor and focussed intently on the woman who was now inspecting her nails. Looking up, Carth noted with no surprise that she was maintaining the serene expression she constantly wore, to his annoyance. The only difference he found was that her forehead was slightly drawn and her eyes held a more intense look of awareness.

Under her gaze, the woman gradually lowered her eyelids and then gracefully supported her head on her desk, her lekku going slack as she drifted into sleep, breaths coming slow and even. As Carth gawked, Eva forced the floor panel down and caught it with the Force, settling it quietly on the floor, before grinning impudently at Carth and easing herself down, landing on the floor with a muffled thump.

Hooking her hands under the Twi'lek's shoulders, Eva pulled her out of her chair and laid her on the ground while Carth descended from the air-shaft. "I put her into a sleep trance. She should stay like this for about an hour, barring loud noises or painful stimuli," she rattled off in a monotone.

"Neat trick. Will we be out of here in an hour?" queried Carth.

Frowning, Eva took some binding tape out of a pocket and began securing the woman's wrists and ankles. "Probably, but let's not take chances."

"Like we haven't already taken chances," Carth muttered.

"You really don't like being told what to do, do you?" questioned Eva, finishing her handiwork.

"I'm a soldier. I take orders," argued Carth.

"So, you don't like taking orders from _me_," concluded Eva.

"It is a little… unconventional," Carth admitted.

"Really? There have been no female officers in your experience?" she asked irritably as she sat at the security console and brought up the elevator controls, as well as plugging in her datapad to the console and downloading the building's schematics.

"Well, of course there has, but…"

"But none of them were Jedi, right?" Eva interrupted, disabling the elevator alert system and quickly pressing buttons on her datapad, then inputting T3's code into her wrist comm.

"I don't trust anything I can't understand. But, it's not even that. I've learned from experience you can't trust anyone but yourself. Not even yourself, sometimes." Carth sounded conflicted and confused.

"Yeah? I'd say you're partially right on that one. But you're heading more for paranoid than cautious, you know."

"I have good reasons for being this way, and I'm not about to change. Sorry."

"Don't apologise unless you mean it," Eva glanced at him before speaking into her wrist comm. "T3, you're clear to come down. I'm sending you the schematics now. I'll keep an eye on you till you reach us."

"And another thing," Carth went on, oblivious, "how the hell did you know where we were going? I'm not about to accuse you of being a Sith, but as far as I can figure out that's the only way you'd be able to know the layout of the place."

"I have good instincts," Eva shrugged, typing in some commands to clear T3's path.

"I can't understand that, and when I don't understand things…"

"You don't trust them, yeah, I heard that part," Eva interposed. "Sometimes you have to accept things on faith. I can understand how difficult that must be when you have none."

Glowering at her, Carth punctuated his words harshly. "You can't possibly begin to understand."

"Shouldn't you be watching the door?" Eva questioned him mildly. Growling in his throat, he went back to his original position.

She wasn't as carefree as she appeared. A flicker of fear had made itself felt along her spine as he had turned on her, and Eva was now even more highly aware that Carth was a dangerous man who had very little to lose. She still wasn't aware of the specifics, but seeing as Carth was unlikely to inform her of them himself, she resolved to ask Bastila about him at her earliest opportunity.

T3 arrived soon. As Carth brooded and watched the door, the little droid toddled over to where Eva was and began discussing sabotage and diversionary tactics to disable and disarm the base. Eva handed the chore over to him without reservations – for a woman who loved droids, she was not particularly fluent in computer use, though she was good enough to have made it thus far.

The astromech disabled turrets, caused droids to turn on themselves and organics or self destruct, short circuited force fields, and exploded power couplings. He did a tremendous amount of damage in most areas of the base, causing blackouts, confusion, and some nastily fatal accidents. He did point out a concern to Eva though – there was a higher security complex in the east wing of the building, the Governor's quarters, where he was unable to do much more than unlock an elevator and permanently open doors. The camera vision of the elevator showed a very scary looking droid. Oddly enough to T3's reasoning capabilities, Eva didn't seem too worried about the mechanical creature barring their progress, but perhaps that would change when they were there. He had already noted that she was an extremely placid being, her heart rate and breathing rarely exceeding the norm and all other bodily signs showing little insight into her emotions.

"Commander? If you have no objections, we really should be moving." Maybe if she spoke respectfully to him, they could get through the rest of this mission without screaming or infighting.

Having calmed himself down, Carth raised his eyebrows at the formal structure of her request. "No, no objections. Lead the way."

"We're going to run into a big battle droid. Leave him to me, please? I can disable him quickly," Eva insisted.

"Are you sure?" Carth's voice was loaded with doubt.

"Yes," Eva said shortly, as she walked forward out of the portal.

Carth and T3 followed her, carefully monitoring the direction behind and prepared to back Eva up if she ran into trouble. They soon came on the parts of the base that T3 had sabotaged. The lights were either destroyed or flickered in a terribly annoying way – too short to see anything of consequence, and long enough to leave those bothersome grey voids in one's sight. Eva closed her eyes completely and let the Force help her pick her way along, avoiding bodies, sparking wires and miscellaneous objects. T3's vision wasn't affected by the light source, and Carth could only hope he was following them accurately.

"I really hate this smell," Eva murmured from in front.

Carth took a moment to understand what she meant. Oh, the acrid scent of destroyed electronics mixed with the strange scent of burning human flesh. That smell.

"Not exactly Dantooine flowers, I guess," he replied wryly.

"Nah, there are no carnivorous flowers on Dantooine, at least that I recall," Eva whispered back. "But from what I've heard of Kashyyyk…"

"That's the Wookiee planet, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I've never been there."

"Me neither. It's not like it matters," Carth said dismissively.

"I wouldn't mind being there right now," Eva said wistfully. They continued on in silence, Eva checking her datapad every now and then to make sure they were heading in the right direction, so that T3 could remain silent. There could still be conscious and dangerous Sith lurking in the hallways. It was best not to have any unnecessary noise.

A locker crashed to the floor behind them. Eva jumped but widened her senses as both she and Carth started turning around slowly, scanning the low visibility hallways for signs of danger. All that her ears heard were the quiet sounds of the breathing of herself and Carth and the almost inaudible squeals of T3's innards as he swivelled his headpiece and various attachments. Her senses, though, told a different story, and told it loud enough that she completely obeyed them and tackled Carth to the floor as an engineered explosion flashed into an incredibly loud noise overhead.

Carth's experience told him someone had tossed a concussion grenade, and the double vision and deafness he was suffering backed up his observations. Even as he staggered, he screamed at himself to get himself back together and raise the drooping muzzles of his blaster weapons. Even with his impaired eyesight, he noted threatening shapes to his side and fought against the mind-numbing sensations to struggle for his own survival.

This was a time for the Force, in Eva's opinion. Relying solely on that mystical agent, she telekinetically moved debris and sundry other items in her defence, raining down on her assailants, barely noticing that T3 had engaged his stun ray and had already downed one black clad attacker. She fought and dodged until all her mind registered was a bland film of red, as she sank, exhausted, down to the floor, her nerveless fingers dropping her blade.

When she had the strength to raise her head, panting and trembling with fatigue, she became aware of the stillness. With a sick feeling in her heart, she turned her gaze toward her companions, and was incredibly relieved to see them still intact and functioning, even T3 who sported a brand new carbon score against his chassis. Carth seemed to have sustained a nasty blaster burn on his cheekbone, and had discarded his mask which had continued to smoulder. She levelled one glance around the room, noting the bloodied bodies, some impaled by her use of the Force, some taken down by her companions or her blade. A shallow scan with her Force senses told her that they were no longer among the living. She was loath to waste any more time on them.

"Carth? Can you hear me?" She doubted it, as her voice was very breathy. She stumbled over to him, and waved her hand at him.

"Concussion grenade," Carth said loudly, "I can't hear you."

Eva nodded and stared fixedly at his cheek. He wondered what she meant. He knew he was injured already. Then, a not altogether unfamiliar tingling replaced the dull ache of the wound as he realised she was healing him as Bastila had done in the Tarisian sewers. He wondered if he should be grateful he wouldn't bear a scar, but decided that while his head was pounding like it was he wouldn't be grateful for anything.

Stopping her healing to give herself a moment to breathe and relax, she turned to T3 and asked him to do a self-diagnostic. While he was occupied with that, she stepped awkwardly back to pick up her blade and run it a few times over a relatively clean corpse to clean off most of the blood. She found she was breathing much easier after that, and then returned to Carth and put her rusty Healing skills to work, first scanning him for signs of damage. She noted slight brain trauma, ocular and sensory nerve damage, as well as general stiffness and inflammation pooling around his right hip.

This time, Carth noted that she closed her eyes, folding her hands together and breathing deeply and rhythmically. As he shuffled on his feet and glanced around, checking for more intruders, he suddenly realised that he was feeling fit again, even to the eradication of the headache he had had.

"Can you hear me now?" Eva asked, smiling slightly.

"Damn," Carth said articulately, eyes wide in disbelief. "Ignore me next time I say you aren't welcome on a mission. Even if you just do that, you're an asset."

"For your kind words, my thanks," Eva smirked, pleased that he would no longer question her worth. "We'd better be off, if T3's finished."

T3 chimed his response, claiming minimal damage and eagerness to finish the assigned task.

"I understood that," Carth nodded.

Better than could be expected for a group that had just been blooded, they continued on their quest. Within minutes, they had traversed many hallways and rooms, all without further incident. When Carth saw the huge droid guarding the elevator to the governor's quarters, the most secret and secure part of the base, his heart sank momentarily. The thing was just so darn huge and had this glowy aura about it, denoting some sort of energy shield protecting it from blaster fire. Carth flicked the switches on his blaster pistols to produce an ion charged laser shot, but even then it would take time to get the shield down so he could do some damage to the machine. And in the meantime, the machine could so some damage… to him.

From behind the corner of the hallway, Carth whispered furiously to Eva, "We've got to put together a plan to fight that droid. Neither of us can bring it down by ourselves, and we're probably going to take on a lot of damage anyway. The way I see it…"

"Forget it, flyboy, I got it," Eva shrugged, moving into sight of the electronic monstrosity.

"Eva! Come back here, dammit! You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Ignoring him, Eva waved at the droid, which grunted in the most annoying way and began to march aggressively towards her. She waited, a hand upraised in the stop position, till it came close to striking distance. Carth lunged forward to push her out of the way and tripped over T3, sprawling awkwardly in the way of Eva's possible retreat. From his prone position on the floor, he decided he hated his profession.

Suddenly, flashes of electricity arced from her fingertips and burrowed deeply into the droid, freezing it in mid-strike. As it sparked, Eva stepped around it delicately and browsed over the components in the back, finally choosing one and pulling it out with her fingers. "Without this, this guy won't be going anywhere. Honestly, Carth, you need to learn about what Jedi are capable of."

Carth regained his feet and shook his head. "I remember Bastila doing something like that, but I guess it went out of my head."

"Didn't I fix everything up there?" Eva teased for a moment. Then she went rigid, closing her eyes.

"What's going on? What's happening?" Carth asked anxiously, feeling quite adrift. This was not the way his previous missions had gone.

She let out a sigh, and relaxed her muscles, before opening her eyes and looking at Carth without the slightest hint of a smile. "There's a Force Sensitive here who now knows of our presence. He sensed me when I stunned the droid."

"Would that make him a Dark Jedi?" Carth asked, unease creeping into his voice.

"This is a Sith Base. It would make sense that the governor is a Dark Jedi," she mused. Focussing on the now, she said briskly, "At any rate he's not a Master, nor especially powerful. We should be able to subdue him without much trouble."

"I've heard the Force can do terrible things to a mind," Carth said, a question in his tone. "It can wipe away memories and destroy your very identity."

Eva was silent for a moment before replying cryptically, "All things are possible with the Force."

That didn't reassure him at all.

They walked into the elevator, mostly unafraid of what waited for them below. After all, Dark Jedi didn't generally hold parties or encourage chumminess. The chances were that the Governor would be the only one there, or maybe one or two others.

Surreptitiously observing her, Carth decided Eva was almost fully recovered from the effects of the concussion grenade. She walked with the same amount of energy, and had stopped swapping her blade from hand to hand. Her breathing had evened out and her posture was alert and springy. He had realised by now that she was full of tricks, and so he had a reasonable amount of confidence that she could lay the smack down on any Dark Side dimwit. Assuming she was correct, and this wasn't one of Malak's finest…

"Ah! I thought I had sensed you." A man dressed in an eclectic black robe and holding a double vibro-blade waited for them at the end of their elevator ride. Eva thought it ironic that the thing she most noticed about him was his shining bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

"As I did you, dark one," she replied, a subtly guarded tone in her voice.

"You have great power, great promise. You could go far in the Sith. Do anything, have anything."

Carth almost sighed in relief. If this was the extent of this Sith's brilliance, he had no need to fear for Eva.

"Do anything I wanted, but help and create. Have anything I wanted, except what I need," Eva said sadly. "I know the path of the dark side, and while I am not immune, it is not the path I choose. You should reconsider your choice, before it is too late."

"You're all the same, you Jedi," the Sith sneered as he twirled his double blade. "Preaching light and fluffiness while the galaxy crumbles around you."

Eva snickered inadvertently as she blocked a thrust with her own blade. "I'm sorry, it's just the idea of a Sith even saying the word 'fluffiness', it just cracks me up."

"Laugh, Jedi," the Sith mocked, executing a very pretty manoeuvre that left him off exactly as he was before. "The time will come very soon when you will laugh no more."

"Speaking of which, when's the last time you had a chuckle-fest? Admit it, the Sith way hasn't exactly been fun for you, has it?" Eva had an unusual way to connect with 'stray ones'.

"I have power! I have the universe at my feet!"

"And a dozen or more Sith Masters ready to cut you down should you threaten them! Your idea of power is false. The Dark Side twists everything, but you're not too late to see the truth." Eva spoke as persuasively as she could, using footwork and fancy blade techniques to stall and block him, but not injure him.

"For the first and last time, Eva, just finish him!" Carth called out. "Drop him at let's get out of here."

"You cannot hold against my power!" the Sith insisted, eyes gleaming with hate, his sword strokes getting stronger and less technically correct.

"Your dark power cannot compare to my power in the light," Eva returned calmly, spreading a hand towards him and pushing him back with the Force for emphasis.

The Sith shouted in frustration and also extended a hand, lighting flashing from his fingers. Unfortunately, he was untutored in the art and the uncontrolled electricity arced towards T3.

"Watch it," Eva yelled as she swung her blade towards him, ready to protect her newest purchase. The soggy thump to the side alerted her to the fact that she had just decapitated her opponent. "Well, _crap_," she muttered.

"Finally," Carth growled as he stepped forward to field-strip the headless corpse. "What were you thinking? His kind can't be saved. They don't deserve it."

"And who determines who is to be saved and who is not?" she snapped, annoyed at this turn of events. "They are not animals, no matter what they have done. You know nothing of the subject or you would not say such things."

Carth's eyes narrowed in anger as he abandoned the body and thrust his face into hers, glaring. "_I know nothing?_ I saw them destroy my home world and my family! My wife and son died because of them! Don't tell me I know nothing about those butchers!"

Eva stood still under his angry stare, only her eyes betraying the slight fear she felt. When she spoke, her voice was soft and hushed. "Telos?"

With the word, Carth's shoulders slumped and his breath rushed out of him in a sigh. "Telos." He turned around and began searching the room for the all-important Sith launch codes, trying to calm his temper before he did something he regretted.

Eva chose the opposite side of the room and gave some thought to the situation. So, Carth had lost his family and his home in one fell sweep. Probably all of his neighbours and acquaintances, even some enemies. Heck, he would have lost his entire life. There would be nothing left. It went a long way to explain why he carried so much anger and frustration with him – she now felt a growing respect for him that he was as reasonable and malleable as he was.

But the question of how to continue on the mission without damaging the situation further would take some doing to answer. Eva decided she would revert back to the polite words and suggestions when dealing with him for a while and when they were safer and calmer try to repair the damage that had just occurred. The task of a Jedi was to help the galaxy, and it often meant doing it individual by individual. If she could help Carth even a little, it would only be right of her as a Jedi to do so.

"Found it," Carth's level voice woke her from her thoughts.

"Excellent. We should head back immediately and ensure we're not followed."

In an uncomfortable silence, they made their way back to the elevator to the Upper City. Before they boarded, Eva got a thoughtful expression on her face and patted her pockets for a while, finally coming up with the thermal detonator Mission had given them. She set the timer for a few minutes and then tossed it back into the room, before they boarded the elevator. They exited as quickly out of the base as they could.

As they walked away from the base, a muffled explosion from behind them almost stilled their steps. Mission's powerful grenade had neutralised the elevator and any hope of the Sith inside getting out soon, but they still went on a long circuitous walk, a clothing change and another walk to make sure they weren't being tailed. By the time they were ready to head back to the apartment, they were exhausted, footsore, and irritated, with the exception of T3 who seemed, for a droid, remarkably happy about the completion of the mission and the neutralisation of a good amount of Sith organics.

Not far from the apartment, Carth eased himself onto a nearby seating bench. It had been a hard morning for both of them, but he ascribed Eva's continuing energy despite her less than sylphlike physique to be a result of her Force. He sighed again, and knew he really should say something to diffuse the antagonism of the situation, but just couldn't be bothered.

Eva knew she would have to start the ball rolling. "So, do you think Mission and Bassie behaved themselves while we were gone?"

**Author's Notes and Explanations: This chapter is offered to Jen DeClan's OC Swagger Vasa, in hopes that he will see fit not to hunt me down and execute me for the heinous crimes of procrastination and breach of promise. I throw myself at his mercy (and secretly leer at his dimples)! Ahem, and now the serious part of this section:**

**My largest chapter yet! 7,775 not including this! **

**I might have made Carth a little OOC. I know he didn't have fits of rage in KOTOR, but I guess I've been exaggerating that bit ever since I started. What are your views on this? Prefer this to a weepy Carth? Hate it? If you object on the counts that Carth isn't unreasonably violent, I've only made him shout and try to intimidate with his body language. He hasn't swung at anybody (yet) so I'm going to stay with this for a while.**

**Personally, I think the Jedi are sanctimonious fools, but I'm trying to be fair to them in this fic. But it goes without saying that if the Sith aren't completely bad, then also the Jedi aren't completely good. After all, they are human (or whatever) and it is human to rub each other up the wrong way, have conflict and petty squabbles. You can't tell me that Jedi aren't like that. I've played the games. Two examples: Vrook and Atris. The title of my story indicates that motive, as well as the action, is important, and so there's going to be a bit of introspection and my own personal opinions in it. It's the beauty of fanfiction. If you don't like it, you can skip over it. No problem. **

**I've looked at the Wookiepedia articles about the Dark Side, the Light Side and the Sith (as a religion). Of course, this is my own alternate universe, but I want to sound halfway plausible (Not to mention, you can get some really nifty ideas). One point is that some **_**believe**_** that the Force is like a sentient entity, that plans out things. They don't state it as a fact, which is good, because I prefer it to not be like that. **The _Power of the Jedi Sourcebook_ states that the Potentium (the view that the Force is one, and its sides are just a matter of choice of Force powers) is a corrupt, misguided philosophy, thus being the first source to establish from the official perspective that the Jedi Orthodox philosophy reflects the true nature of the Force. **I'm not that comfortable with that particular idea (that the Jedi are completely right). **

**Clothing wise: Jumpsuit – this particular one is made out of a very light material, extends all the way down the arms and legs, and has a high collar. Very shapeless. Eva added a hood to them, and accessorised gloves, boots and masks. Masks: Cloth. Cut and shaped to wear comfortably, with eyeholes and mouth holes. (For some strange reason, I wanted them also to wear capes, but I thought that would be too superhero/phantom of the opera) A bit low tech, but hey, you use what you have. Carth would probably wear a targeting visor. **

"Better than could be expected for a group that had just been blooded, they continued on their quest." **Sorry. I was in full parody mode. Write and tell me what you hated, what you liked, whatever, I just love reading reviews!**


	17. When The Cathar's Away

**Chapter Seventeen: While The Cat[har]'s Away…**

Mission liked the holovision – heck, everyone did. She admired the actors in the programs and appreciated a good storyline. However, she just wasn't used to sitting on her butt all day looking at it. Mission wasn't a couch kinrath.

"I don't suppose you could stop pacing around the apartment?" Bastila asked testily as she was interrupted in her meditations again. It was a two-edged sword, really. She couldn't sink into a trance so far that she couldn't be roused in case of an emergency – they were, after all, behind enemy lines, so to speak – and that also meant that she could be jerked out of her peaceful state simply by ordinary noises.

"Stop being so touchy, Bassie."

"Is disrespect a symptom of your age or of your education?" Bastila snapped back, before grimacing and saying miserably, "Forgive me. That was unjust. I… I'm concerned about our comrades, although I know that is no excuse for my bad temper."

Mission stared at her for a moment before shrugging and tossing back, "Don't sweat it, Bastila. It's not like I can do anything about it."

Her pardon made Bastila feel worse. It was one thing to insult your equals – to insult people under your protection was doubly despicable. Her Jedi Masters would have a fit if they saw how she handled her pique.

"You want to do something?" Bastila asked as she rose from the floor.

Mission arched a brow. "You would do something with me?"

Bastila paused, thinking. "I don't believe we would come to any harm if we went on a small excursion outside. Perhaps we might feel more at ease once we have exercised ourselves a little and can then enjoy some repose."

Zaalbar lumbered forward and made himself heard for once. "Two aliens wandering around the Upper City are sure to attract attention of the most unwelcome kind."

Inclining her head, Bastila acknowledged it, but proposed her own solution. "True, but with a subtle use of the Force I can cloud the minds of the nearby pedestrians. As long as we don't draw attention to ourselves, we should have no interference. Besides, I feel the Force urging me on this."

Nudging Zaalbar, Mission opined behind Bastila as they gathered their stuff, "Must be great to be a Jedi, huh, Z? Anything you want, you can say the Force wants me to do this. Hey, what would she say if I told her the Force told me to find some chocolate? Ride a bantha? Or hey, if I went on a lifting spree? The voices… no, the Force told me to!"

Zaalbar reproved her as quietly as he could. "Ridiculing things you know nothing about only draws attention to your ignorance, Mission. While it is healthy to have a questioning mind, don't let it trap you into scorning things before you know the facts."

Scowling, Mission retorted, "Oh, lighten up, Z! I was only having a little fun. Heck, for all I know, the Force is everything Bassie says it is. You certainly seem to think so. Why is that, Z?"

Eyes glistening, the Wookiee looked as introspective as a Wookiee can. "I have experienced things in my lifetime that cannot be explained. The fact that the Jedi exist at all is yet another proof that there is some other agent or spirit, that is maybe akin to what makes the trees and plants grow, the seasons change and the land evolve."

With a snicker, Mission hit him with her bag. "Where've you been living, Z? This is Taris. There are no trees, plants, change or land. It's the same as it's ever been."

"Taris is unnatural. It is good that we have an opportunity to escape this planet with these Jedi."

Mission frowned. "I don't know. Taris has been good to me. And then there's Griff… How will he find me if I leave here?"

"At least you will be somewhere living your life instead of just existing and waiting for him."

Mission was used to Zaalbar's bias against her brother, despite his never having met him. She focussed on the positive side of his message through habit. "So you're saying I should move on, that better things are ahead of us? I don't know, Z. I mean, it could just as easily be worse than Taris than better."

A hairy hand squeezed her shoulder carefully. "Yes, but remember, Mission, I will always be there for you."

Meanwhile, Bastila was picking up all the things that were irreplaceable, or that simply couldn't be found by outsiders, like the lightsabers. There was no guarantee that someone couldn't rob the apartment while they were gone. The food, however, and other such things such as clothes and the few toiletries they had gathered could stay. All questionable items were stowed into a backpack, which Bastila intended to hand to Zaalbar to pack around. After all, he owed her a lifedebt, he might as well be useful.

Once equipped, they opened the door cautiously and made their way out into the apartment building hallway. Mission was fairly bouncing with enthusiasm, but Bastila could not feel so buoyant. As a matter of fact, her stomach felt nauseous and she had the same tingling along her spine as she commonly felt before battles and other times of danger…

The metallic tramp of armoured boots sent her heart racing as she yanked Mission and pushed Zaalbar into a droid maintenance room next door. Mission, a born scoundrel, needed no instructions to stay silent and keep her ears open as the Sith worked their way down the hall, apartment by apartment.

"Records say this one is rented by a guy called Ogral. Ogral? What kind of name is that?" the Sith soldier with the datapad asked his three heavily armed cohorts.

"Eh, probably a fake name. It's not like these Tarisians have much imagination," one scoffed, slipping a mechanism into the locking device. The door opened with a happy sounding chime.

"Yeah, well, with our reinforcements arriving, we'd better hurry up and clear the rest of the apartments. They're probably lining up at the entrance already."

Bastila and Mission shared a speaking glance. When the sounds of the Sith faded into the recently vacated apartment, the threesome moved quickly out of the confining space of the droid maintenance bay and hurried quietly away down the hallway. Bastila was busily working out ways in which she could use the Force to help them evade the Sith and escape the building, but Mission had already formulated a plan. Rushing to a huge nearby metal door set into the apartment building wall, she made use of Zaalbar and asked him to open it.

"What is this?" Bastila whispered, sticking her head in. She abruptly wished she hadn't, as all she saw was a vertical shaft going down, down, down… Jedi aren't supposed to get vertigo, are they?

"It's where Tarisians dump the trash. All large buildings in the Uppercity have 'em. What, you thought they dumped their garbage off the walkways? That's so uncivilised," Mission whispered, grinning.

"What are you proposing to do with it?" Bastila asked fearfully. Her question was answered silently as Zaalbar crawled in and before her disbelieving eyes, grasped onto rungs bolted to the side of the shaft, and began the laborious task of lowering himself down.

"It leads to the Lower City. No one will find us there," Mission said confidently as she prepared to follow in Zaalbar's wake.

Bastila remembered the long elevator ride down to the Lower City. And the elevator would be much faster than this manual form of transportation. "No, wait! This can't be the answer…"

"Hurry up!" hissed Mission as she began lowering herself down. "The Sith will be in sight soon!"

Bastila paused only to draw on a pair of gauntlets for extra grip before steeling her nerve and edging herself sideways to the maintenance ladder. Carefully, she transferred the balance of her weight over onto the rungs, praying that she could hold on and taking comfort in the fact that Zaalbar was road testing every rung before she did. She paused when her head reached the apartment floor level, drawing tendrils of the Force over the open door of the trash vent, pulling them taut and closing it, sealing them from both danger and safety.

She continued down, physically controlling and timing her breaths, waiting for her heart rate to take the hint. _I feel fear, but I rise above it. I am not fear. I am in control. I am not afraid of facts, I have an illogical fear. Well, not so illogical really, but nothing can possibly go wrong if I keep calm and make sure I don't slip and fall… no! Don't think of that. What would Revan say? Other than being obnoxious and pointing out that the fall won't kill you – the landing does - she would otherwise say – focus is the key. Concentration and thought is the opposite of panic. Yes, focus. On what??_

She strove to look objectively while she let the ten percent of her brain not concentrating on lowering herself as carefully as possible, analyse her surroundings dispassionately. The shaft was lined with a steel alloy, pierced by two broken lines of repair lights which provided the only illumination in the enclosed space. The rungs were also a steel alloy, and, to her relief, were very sturdy, both in appearance and performance. There was little actual liquid or refuse in sight, at most a stray portion clinging to the rungs or stuck to the walls, but there was a pervading feeling of humidity and an accompanying odour of over ripe rubbish. Bastila also noted that the vent was not entirely vertical – it seemed to be angling somewhere below. On occasion, huge gaps in the wall were signs that the vent had met up with another to end at a common destination. Luckily, she was not blinded or otherwise hit by falling debris.

Her fingers were aching and her arches sore by the time she stood on a level floor again. She had lost all track of time – she could have been in the vent for half an hour or six for all she knew.

"We're at one of the Lower City trash bays," Mission confided to Bastila in a half-whisper. "Here is where all the garbage is gathered up and transported by these huge lizards which tow it to recycling and manufacturing plants, or haul it to the lowest levels of a spaceport for transport off-world."

"Fascinating," Bastila frowned, "but it hardly helps us toward a safer conclusion of the day's events."

"Wrong," Mission grinned, "I just told you there are big lizards around. That way, you make sure you don't get swallowed by them. Two, I gave you a hint where the exits are. We just need to be quiet and stealthy and we'll get out of here and to the normal parts of the Lower City, no sweat."

"Very well," Bastila said faintly, her equilibrium completely upset, "lead the way."

Both Zaalbar and Bastila followed Mission as she sporadically eeled her way out of the facility. Mission was glad she was mature enough not to navigate too closely towards the lizards for the sake of scaring Bastila, though her mind persisted in forecasting the possibility with tempting imaginings. So she felt very noble when she guided them to another ladder set into a wall, this time going up, which brought them up on a familiar looking pathway in the Lower City.

"Wait… I recognise this place," Bastila insisted. "Yes, this is very familiar to me."

"Well, yeah," Mission agreed. Pointing, she added, "Over there's the elevator."

"Oh, good, we can go back to the Upper City," Bastila said, relieved.

"Uh, no," Mission shook her head.

"What? Why not?" Bastila asked, upset.

"We don't have those security passport files. They're on Eva's datapad, remember?" Mission reminded her. "It's not a big deal. The Lower City is safe enough if you know what you're doing, and I do."

"Then we must find another trash shaft and go back to the Upper City!" Bastila said, though the thought of more time spent in such a pursuit sent shivers up her spine.

"That wouldn't do us any good. They're only open from one side, the Upper City side, to prevent thieves like, well, me, coming up, lifting stuff, and going back."

"But how can we resume contact with Carth and Eva?" questioned Bastila, distressed. "As far as they're concerned, we've just vanished! They haven't the slightest clue where to find us, and we can't possibly contact them via commlink because if they're in the Sith Base, which they should be by now, it might comprise them and bring ruin to us all!"

"Hey, chill there," Mission soothed. "Carth and Eva know we know that the Sith launch codes have to be delivered to Canderous Ordo, and that the arranged meeting place is Javyar's Cantina, down here in the Lower City. They also probably realise that we can't contact them and can do so themselves. Heck, do you think it's the first time they've run into a wrinkle in their plans?"

"Mission is correct, Bastila Shan," Zaalbar assured her, "The plans you have made with your associates will not be ruined by this diversion. You may actually be safer this way. There are few Sith here."

"Yes, that's true," acknowledged Bastila, calming down. "It will be some time before we need to be at Javyar's Cantina, however. Do you have any suggestions as to where we could remain in safety till then?"

Mission shrugged. "You don't get much safer than the Bek base. It's close to the cantina, too. Gadon'll let us hang there as long as we need: we did after all help bring the Vulkar's down."

That solution would have been fine, if Mission's petty thief instincts hadn't made themselves felt as they approached yet another apartment block entrance.

"I know where that goes," Mission announced with narrowed eyes. "That was mostly used by the Vulkars. And what with Brejik dead and half their gang gone, they're sure to either break up or group up in their Base. The perfect time to strike!"

"What?" questioned Bastila bewilderedly.

"The scavenger awakes in her soul," Zaalbar said dryly. "However, that instinct has saved us in the past."

"What?" Bastila said again.

"What's so hard to understand?" Mission asked. "The Vulkars are scattered, and maybe there's something worthwhile left behind! This is a golden opportunity so build on our resources. That droid took out most of our credits, and you never know when you need some ready persuasion."

"I cannot condone thievery," Bastila said sternly.

"Hey, it's better to take what doesn't belong to you rather than leaving it to lie around neglected," Mission said virtuously. "Waste not, want not. That's the most important rule you'll ever learn in Taris."

A heavy, hairy hand brushed Bastila's shoulder. "Let her," Zaalbar said, "she will come to no harm while I am with her, and rest assured, we have much better use for credits than those honourless rogues."

So, against her better judgement, they started sweeping the apartment block, looking for easily transported valuables. Credits were most welcome, but occasionally Mission presented other things to her with pride: grenades, medpacs, semi-precious trinkets and the occasional specialty weapon part. The latter were commandeered by Zaalbar, who placed them in pouches in his belt. They came across only one Vulkar occupant, and he was suitably subdued by Zaalbar's ferocious voice and breath.

"Just one more!" Mission pleaded, as they approached the last apartment.

"No! We have committed enough crimes," Bastila said between gritted teeth.

"Look, just this one more, and I promise, I won't say another thing. You can meditate for hours at the Bek Base, just this last one! Please?" Mission begged.

Zaalbar chuffed out a laugh as Bastila shook her head and placed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Fine. Do what you must, but be quick about it. We've wasted enough time already."

With a pleased yelp, Mission set to work on the lock. As it surrendered with the usual chime, she almost skipped into the room, only stopping when the sight of a blaster muzzle loomed against her face.

"What, are there child bounty hunters now?" a green, very peeved looking Twi'lek man growled, his eyes travelling from Mission to her stunned back up. "A Wookiee bounty hunter? That's a new one. But it makes no difference – you will not take me!"

"What on earth is wrong with this planet?!?" Bastila scowled, before raising her hands supplicatingly. "We are not bounty hunters, sir. We are… well, we were…" Bastila fumbled as she remembered the reason they had for invading his apartment. "Ah… well, the truth is…"

"We were looting the apartments," Mission said boldly, staring past the weapon in his hands. "I don't like Vulkars very much, and we could use the funds. By the way, the Wookiee is my best friend, and if you so much as harm my eyelash he'll… hey, wait a minute. Don't I know you?"

The man smirked. "You don't know me? What an unpardonable error on my part! Let me introduce myself: Matrik the Traitor at your service!"

When she finished giggling at his exaggerated motions, she nodded vigorously. "That's right! You're the guy whose testimony put away a lot of those Exchange guys, Davik Kang's friends! I knew I'd seen you before. Man, you've got some guts!"

Putting up his blaster, Matrik relaxed and continued the conversation. "Yes, well, I prefer keeping my guts on the inside. That's becoming difficult these days, what with that scum-sack Kang putting a bounty on me – dead or alive, though I think he'd prefer alive, for his revenge can be complete. Well, I want to disappoint him. So, if you want me to let you go, you have to promise not to reveal my location to anyone."

Mission bit her lip. "That's easy, but can't we do more? I mean, here we are, we can help!"

His eyes softening considerably, Matrik smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm afraid there's nothing you can do for me. I wouldn't involve you anyway – this is my own mess. I may have testified, but the things I did before I found my conscience – you might say I deserve this."

Despite herself, Bastila was touched. Here was a champion of truth – a damaged champion, to be sure, but still! who was in danger because he stood up for justice. "But surely there are options. You must have considered this during your seclusion."

"The only way I could be free of Davik is if I was dead," Matrik said firmly.

"So, why not fake your death?" Mission queried.

"I could do that," Matrik admitted, "but for the plan I thought up to work, I'd need a permacrete detonator. If I had that, I could blow this apartment to dust, and then I would need someone to claim my bounty, and then, I would be free. But I have no permacrete detonator, and they're very hard to obtain – usually they're strictly controlled by the military and policing forces."

Zaalbar then surprised everyone by pushing past everyone and trudging into the apartment, stopping at a table suited for being used as a workbench.

"What is he doing?" Matrik asked sharply.

Bastila, as the last one standing outside the apartment, stepped in and allowed the door to close. "I believe he is constructing some sort of explosive," she said in a soft voice. "Wookiees are natural mechanics, or so I understand. You may be closer to your resolution than you think."

"Go, Big Z!" Mission cheered, watching his large hands whisk components surprisingly delicately from his belt and configure them in position.

"Will this actually work?" Matrik asked, torn between suspicion and hope.

"Our meeting was no accident," Bastila said warmly.

"Well, if this works, it will have been a lucky accident for me," Matrik replied.

Half an hour later, Zaalbar held up his finished product in triumph.

"That doesn't look like a permacrete detonator to me," Matrik said sceptically.

Mission glared at him. "Of course not, it's homemade. But it'll work just as well, won't it, buddy?"

"I think," Zaalbar admitted.

"See?" Mission said proudly.

Bastila and Mission hurried out of the apartment, followed reluctantly by Matrik. "If anyone sees me out here…"

Mission waved his concerns away. "Eh, there's nobody here. I told you, I've been in every apartment before yours."

"Busy girl."

Soon, Zaalbar came out the door and motioned them back further along the hallway. After they had moved a considerable distance away, they stopped and waited. And waited. And waited.

Scowling, Matrik snapped, "Look, this is obviously not going to work. I appreciate the effort you put into it, but …"

His rant was cut off by an enormous explosion that sent tremors throughout the apartment complex and sent them staggering, before a cloud of dust and other particles avalanched down the hallway and enveloped them in a gritty fog. When the haze cleared, they regained their feet and looked at each other blankly, before staring down at the place where Matrik's door had been.

There was now a gaping hole from which plumed wisps of smoke and spiralling pieces of ash, backed up by a light show of sparking electronic conduits. Matrik reeled over to peer inside and saw nothing but unidentifiable debris through the miasma of powder-filled air.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, impressed.

"I told you Zaalbar was the greatest! And look! See? He's the greatest!" Mission said happily.

"Um, Mission," Zaalbar yowled quietly, "it wasn't meant to be that big."

"Eh, that just means you're even better than you think you are," Mission said dismissively. "Look, Matrik, you better hide again at least for today. We'll definitely go tell Zax about your artistic death today, and then you should be able to get lost tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Deal," grinned Matrik. "I never thought I deserved a second chance, but I'm glad I got one. I'll remember this, Mission."

They parted amicably, and made their way out of the apartment complex without it collapsing on top of them, which Bastila thought was excellent. She believed she had acted irresponsibly by letting the whole thing happen. What guarantee could Zaalbar give that the inhabitants above or next to that shattered apartment would not be harmed? None! Was this what Revan had meant by that demonstration on the world whose name she no longer remembered, that good deeds always hold ill effects, as clouds of ill-fortune are meant to have silver linings?

Looking at Bastila sideways, Mission whispered to Zaalbar, "She's spacing out again. Do you think we need to be concerned?"

Zaalbar shook his head. He didn't really have an 'inside voice', and he doubted that Bastila was so deep in introspection that she wouldn't notice or take offence at being talked about.

Mission groused all the way to the Bek base. When Bastila was silent, Zaalbar thought it prudent for him to maintain a like silence, which left poor Mission with no one to talk to. She would even have welcomed the T3 unit, though she would have had some trouble interpreting his astromech language. It wasn't like she had many dealings with that particular type of droid.

When they got to the base, Bastila still hadn't snapped out of her somnolence. Mission sighed and thrust herself forward, waving at the lookout. "Hey, Shaz. We'd like to visit here for a while, need to kill some time and maybe say some goodbyes. I'll be going with the offworlders, you know."

"Sure thing, Mission," the man agreed good naturedly. "Best wishes, kid. You deserve it."

"Not a kid," Mission called back as she walked through the door, followed by her two companions. "Sheesh, they'll never get over that, will they? They talk like I'm twelve!"

They made their way over to where the command station was, threading their way through several small gatherings of Bek members. Mission stopped every so often and chatted for a moment, saying goodbye in her own way. As Bastila was starting to feel twitchy and impatient, they stopped in front of Gadon's desk. The trouble was, Gadon wasn't there. Neither was Zaerdra.

"This is strange, he's hardly ever away from here," Mission said pensively. She brightened. "I bet he's just getting some shuteye. I'll go over and find him. Take Bastila to the mess, Z, perhaps she'll feel better with something in her belly."

Zaalbar grunted and motioned Bastila follow him, crooking a hairy finger. Bastila sighed, and took the path of least resistance, following him.

With her sure memory guiding her, Mission paced down the hallways and made her way swiftly to what was to the Beks the holy of holies, Gadon Bek's living quarters. It had become very important since the months of Brejik's defection, the protected core in which Gadon could be assured of safety. Mission had helped in making it impregnable, bending her wits to the chore and talking for days with the Bek architects, techs and sentries. She felt a nostalgic pang as she neared the location of the elevator that led to Gadon's private apartment.

Zaerdra stood guard at its doors. "Oh, Mission, honey, it's good to see you," she smiled, ridding her face of the sombre expression that she wore before. "Are those foolish offworlders here with you, or just Zaalbar?"

"Z's here, and Stella, the swoop rider. We'll be meeting up with the others in a couple of hours, and then… I don't think I'll be coming back here again, Zaerdra," Mission fought against unexpected tears rising in her eyes, "so it's kind of my farewell visit. I'll try and visit Taris later, maybe, but…"

Zaerdra grasped Mission's forearms in her hands. "Mission, this is good news. You're far too good a kid to live here, scraping away in the Lower City to survive the way you have. You deserve better," she whispered, her eyes falling to the ground, "we all deserved better. It isn't too late for you, Mission. You have the chance we all dreamed about. Don't you dare let regrets get in the way."

Mission grinned wryly, her tears clearing. "'Course not, you know me, I'm an opportunist. I always land on my feet. But, hey, I wanted to say goodbye to Gadon before I left, you know, thank him for everything he's done for me. If it hadn't been for him… I know he could be sleeping or something, but do you think you could wake him just so I can see him one last time?"

Zaerdra wiped all expression from her face. "Mission, kiddo, Gadon… you know Brejik was like his son, and he never stopped feeling that way… well, he's grieving. He won't talk to anybody right now. I'm sorry."

In disbelief, Mission tried again. "But it's my last chance to see him! I never did say goodbye, and if I don't do it now… Zaerdra, could you just try?"

Sighing, Zaerdra leaned over and pressed a button on the comm. in the wall. "Gadon? I'm sorry to disturb you, but Mission is here. It's the last time she'll be here and she'd like to say goodbye. Can you come here, or let her come there?" Zaerdra paused, waiting for a response. Despite the generous time allowance, none came. "Gadon? Please, if you have to, just say it over the comm. Come here, Mission."

Moving forward, Mission took a breath and spoke. "Gadon? It's me, Mission. I'm sorry about Brejik and all. I know how you felt about him. I'm going to be going soon. I don't think I'll be coming to the base anymore. We've got a plan to get offworld and after that I don't know what's going to happen, but I'd just like to say goodbye, and thank you for all you did for me and Z. It really meant a lot."

Mission held her breath and waited. Finally, she had to start breathing again, because she wasn't going to get what she wanted. "That's all, I guess. Well, I hope… I hope things work out the way you want them to. I'll always remember you. Goodbye." Mission lowered her finger from the comm. button and sighed.

"I'm sorry," Zaerdra said again. "He's been like this since the swoop race."

Mission swallowed. "I guess… I guess I can understand. I mean, I was really angry when Griff left. I did some things I regretted. If… if he says anything about this, later, tell him I understand." Mission smiled bravely. "It takes more than that to break a friendship."

Zaerdra flinched. "I'll tell him. You… you take care of yourself, do you hear? And if you have any trouble, you sic Zaalbar on them. He'll look out for you. You'll be fine, I know it." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"I've like got four protectors now, Zaerdra. You don't have to worry," Mission rolled her eyes. "You've probably made taking care of me a habit for poor old Carth. He looks haunted every time he hears your name!"

Zaerdra smiled, a smile with a bit of predator in it. "I've still got it, huh?"

Laughing, Mission agreed. "Yep! I'll never forget you, Zaer."

"Good travels, Mission," Zaerdra said softly.

Mission smiled at her again, and turned, and left. The smile wobbled as she strode ahead. Saying things and meaning them were two different things. It would take her time to get over this latest abandonment.

**(&X&)**

Eva softly bit her finger in contemplation. It had been she who had sensed the danger in the apartment block before they entered it, who had literally pulled Carth to a standstill and ordered T3-M4 to do a life-scan over the building. The little droid had not only complied, but also trundled into the heart of danger to ascertain with his optic receptors that the Jedi had left the building. Now they knew conclusively that the allies they had left had gone off without leaving further direction.

Carth had been the one to drag them to a Cantina to discuss the next steps. With a glass of ale in his hand, the man seemed to relax a touch, and the always present necessity of keeping his voice to an acceptable level seemed to have kicked in. She wondered if she should inform Carth that alcohol was actually a depressant – not something she would prescribe by choice to a man with his problems.

"Where could they be?" Carth asked Eva, sipping his ale and frowning. "You know Bastila – is there any place on Taris that holds significance for Jedi?"

"There is the Jedi Tower," Eva answered reluctantly, her mouth tightening with an unnamed emotion, "which the members of the First Watch Circle used as their base of operations."

"You mean the lunatics behind the Taris Padawan Massacre?" Carth asked with revulsion.

"Um, yeah," Eva confirmed quietly. She had hoped he hadn't heard of that. It hadn't exactly been one of the Jedi's shining moments. It made the Jedi out to be a dangerous, secretive religious sect. Well, they were, but rarely to that extent.

"I'm _not _going there," Carth said flatly.

"That's okay. I think it was at least partially destroyed in some gang related event after it was abandoned," Eva shrugged, sighing. She sipped at her flavoured beverage. Not terribly good, but she wouldn't complain. "You know, the sensible thing to do would be to contact them by comm. link."

"But what if they're in a sensitive area which requires communications silence?" Carth asked dubiously. He answered his own question. "They would turn the things off, but they couldn't be sure where we are. We have to make the first call. Yeah, my head's working now, Eva. Thanks."

She grinned a little at his sarcastic tone. She figured that he was usually a very good leader in times of trouble, but the inclusion of Jedi in his party had rattled him. If he had heard of the Taris Massacre, of course, his distrust was not entirely unfounded. Eva wondered whether she had written him off too soon. There was always a reason behind Carth's actions, however obscure they might be.

Carth noted the almost deserted condition of the room as he brought his wrist up to look at his comm. With a nod to Eva, he set Bastila's code into the device and waited.

"_Carth? Is that you? You certainly took your time!"_

"Take it easy, blondie. I contacted you as soon as I could."

"_I don't consider nicknames anything other than demeaning. Now, if you would please bend your mind to the problem of our separate locations and single destination, then we might have something to talk about."_

Aside to Eva, Carth quietly opined, "Either our risky circumstances are getting to her, or she's going to be a very bitter woman, very fast." Directing his voice back into the communications apparatus, he continued, "To start with, where are you? We're in the Upper City with the information we need."

"_Currently, Mission, Zaalbar and I are located in the Hidden Bek Base in the Lower City. The journey here was atrocious, but we need not speak of that. We are quite close to Javyar's Cantina, if you remember. As you have the passport documentation you need to use the elevator, I suggest you choose a time to meet us there, as well as that Mandalorian mercenary."_

Carth thought and then proposed a time.

"_That sounds achievable. Thank you very much, Comm… Carth. Oh, in case she is wondering, you may inform Eva I have brought our torches with us. Goodbye."_ The comm. shut down.

"Torches," Carth sighed. "Your lightsabers, I presume."

"I wasn't concerned," Eva shook her head, "Bastila loves those things. She wouldn't leave them any more than she would leave her head."

"So I guess the rumours are true," Carth mused as he set his empty glass down.

"Which rumours?" Eva asked, taking the bait willingly.

"That you Jedi are married to your lightsabers," he returned, friendly but challenging.

Eva's lips curved in a smirk. "Actually, I think we're supposed to be celibate. I'm pretty sure we're famous for it."

"Must be tough," Carth mused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "No home, no husband…"

"True," Eva agreed, adding mischievously, "but ogling the hot muscled Jedi men makes it all worth while."

Carth looked up, startled, while rising from his seat. "Nice comeback."

Her grin widened. "Until you see Loren Kavar, you don't know how good that comeback is. 'Course, you have to be careful who you look at. Vrook Lamar should never be thought of in that way for fear of acute nausea." She shuddered.

His face set in a contemplative expression, Carth pondered Eva and her ways. She wasn't exactly the epitome of a Jedi. He was finding himself becoming curious as to just what sort of Jedi she was.

**(&X&)**

Bastila had hated Javyar's Cantina on her first visit. Now she absolutely loathed it. The smells seemed heightened, the patrons seemed to have multiplied, and the heavy atmosphere of depravity and greed hung like a cloud at her eye level, colouring everything she saw with clashing, headache inducing shades. She was following Zaalbar, allowing him to force his way through the crowd, and trying to ignore his natural odours. She had learnt yet another lesson: avoid close proximity with a Wookiee after it had consumed a large meal of several types of legumes.

They were making their way to the bounty office; the last favour needed for Matrik. It was run by a large Hutt. Bastila fortified herself and stepped forward to put forth her lies. Although she didn't know it, her expression of extreme disgust at the odorous atmosphere worked for her pose as a bounty hunter. She looked quite mean.

With three hundred credits in hand for the bounty, she left the Hutt with thankfulness. Even the sweaty multitudes of gamblers couldn't compete with Eau de Oversize Slug. She looked around for Mission and Zaalbar, and saw them standing near a Twi'lek dancer and a male Twi'lek who was unaffected by the dancer's pleadings.

"Please! I know I'm a good dancer! Please, Mr Surool, give me a chance!"

Surool shook his head and looked superior. "Unless you can show me you can work with a partner, you're no good to me or my show. You have today to show me what you've got." Surool turned around and started engaging a lone bounty hunter in conversation.

"Hey, Stella," Mission began, grinning, "your people are big on good deeds, right? Well, there's a great big fat good deed to do right ahead of you."

Bastila quirked an eyebrow. "It would be cheating if I 'persuaded' him to hire her."

"That's one way to do it. Another would be to be her dancing partner," Mission pointed out.

"I do not dance," Bastila said coldly. "You're a Twi'lek, why don't you dance?"

"One, I'm not in your club. Two, I'm too young and small. It would throw the whole routine off. Three, I don't dance. It's against my principles. But you're her size, you have that whole slutty look going, and you like doing good deeds. Three strikes!"

Bastila changed colour several times, unaware that the Twi'lek dancer was listening avidly to their conversation. "How dare you! You… slutty?! I do not appear slutty!"

"I'm Twi'lek," Mission stated calmly. "I know all about slutty. And you look slutty."

"That is not so," Bastila insisted, flushing. "And as for good deeds, pah! Procuring cantina jobs for girls is not exactly what we exist for!"

The Twi'lek dancer cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help hearing. This isn't just a cantina job. Bib Surool is the manager of the Starlight Entertainers, a very high class show that caters for only the very best. No prostitutes in his string, oh no. And it's well paid. If I can get it, I'll be able to send back money to my family, and my little brother can get the medicine he needs, and my father lost his job…"

Bastila eyed the girl. She doubted she even had a brother. Still, her tender heart protested against her level head to help her. Hmm. Maybe Eva had a point when she had ignored certain needy people in their travels. There was only so much you could give other people…

The dancer was already showing her what moves to do.

And that's what she was doing – and doing it well, if she did think so herself – when she turned her head and caught sight of Eva and Carth looking fascinated at this unusual sight; the sight of Bastila rocking her hips to the beat.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Do I think this bit is somewhat unnecessary? Yes. But I wanted it like this. It was a pain to write and it may be a pain to read, but for some reason I wanted it this way. And yes, I know there were no giant trash hauling lizards in K1 – but according to Wookieepedia there are, so I included them as a mention. They wouldn't have been big enough to swallow a human, though they could have taken a nice chunk out of you, I imagine. Go ahead and look – there's kind of a picture of them under 'Taris'.**

'**It's better to take what doesn't belong to you rather than leaving it lying around neglected.' I believe that's the gist of something Mark Twain wrote.**

**For those who don't know about the Taris Padawan Massacre, they can look it up under 'Carth Onasi' at Wookieepedia. There are added links. Suffice to say, Carth wasn't just a bystander in the whole affair.**

**In Jen De Clan's Luck Be A Smuggler K1 story, Bastila was nicknamed 'Slutty Girl'. That story is completed, and it's sequel, Sartorial Eloquence, is currently being written. As parodies go, it's hilarious. And if you like alternate universe things, try K2 Shades of What Might Have Been, co-written by Jen De Clan and Synyster Shadow. Not a bag full of laughs, but a very involved story focussing on K2 characters as well as OCs. **


	18. Infiltration

**Chapter Eighteen: Infiltration**

The sinking feeling Bastila felt was an emotional cocktail of deep apprehension and humiliation. She prided herself on being presentable, professional, and above all, impersonal. No potentially entangling relationships for her! As for emotions – well, there were none! That's what the code said! Calm, cool, and collected, that's what she strove for.

Dancing Twi'lek style alongside a Twi'lek really, _really_ hurt that image.

When Eva first caught sight of her Padawan, she had been speechless. A quick glance toward her companion told her that Carth was similarly afflicted, though he was also wearing an uncharacteristic grin of deep amusement. She was now in a quandary – should she look at Carth's unnatural smile, or Bastila's unheard of gyrations?

The dance session finished quickly, with Bib Surool, the Twi'lek man the Twi'lek woman had been auditioning for, expressing his admiration for both dancers, and signing the dancer up for his dancing troupe. Bastila, gratified, felt that if she had to undergo complete mortification she deserved to have her effort pay off. Of course, this was tempered by the dancer now feeling above her company, so Bastila throttled back her inclinations towards violence and assumed her position beside her master Eva, outwardly calm. Inwardly, she was quaking, anticipating her Master's witty jibes.

"So," Eva began. "Have you seen Canderous Ordo yet?"

What? No embarrassing taunts? No double entendres? Not even a sneering lip-curl?

"I have not," Bastila answered after a pause. "But it was crowded, and I haven't made a concerted effort to locate him."

"No doubt you wanted to meet up with us first," reasoned Eva. "Very logical."

"He shouldn't be that hard to find," Carth said sourly. "Just look for the corpses and the general stink."

"I think you're underestimating him, Carth," Eva reproved. "He's smart enough to hide his victims."

"Whatever. I just wish we had another option." Carth shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched his shoulders.

"If wishes were Rancors… we'd all be dead. Multiple times," intoned Eva.

"Sheesh, do you hear you guys?" Mission scolded. "Dead bodies and death-by-rancor? You guys need some serious therapy."

"I agree with the little blue girl," Eva snickered. She was in a very good mood. It wasn't all that often she got to irritate Bastila by doing nothing.

Mission turned to Bastila. "Why haven't you strangled Eva yet?"

"It's against the Jedi Code," Bastila explained seriously.

The conversation might have gone on further if they hadn't noticed the sudden hush in the adjoining rooms. Steady footsteps preceded a rather comical sight. A vertically challenged man, wearing goggles and a mushroom shaped hat stalked through the door, the flat glass of his eyewear glaring at anyone who happened to be in his path. Behind him, an intimidated city dweller dragged a limp body which gave off the scent of burned flesh.

"That's Calo Nord, the infamous bounty hunter," Mission informed the rest quietly. "He's killed more men than the Iridian Plague, and, trust me, he doesn't have a sense of humour. I've seen him kill men just for trying to talk to him!"

"Wow. Antisocial behaviour has just hit a new low," Eva commented dryly.

Carth glared at her. "Your observations could be dangerous right now," he muttered softly. "Shut up."

Eva frowned, secretly admitting the man had a point.

"He's been hired by Davik Kang. Chances are he's the reason Canderous Ordo is willing to deal with us – neither mercenary can stomach being second best," Mission added knowledgably.

Calo Nord sauntered up to the Hutt officiating as the bounty office coordinator, flicking a gloved finger behind him. The cowed individual in question dragged the body forward before letting it slump to the floor, darting a scared glance towards Nord and slinking away into the barroom.

"Pavron Mib, wanted on three planets." Calo's voice was an expressionless monotone, with a dash of nasality. His words were bland, as well – no pointed barbs, no beating around the bush. Plain, unembellished facts.

"[Nice job. Davik didn't like that one in his territory. Too proud. The bounty is set at 900 credits, not negotiable.]" The Hutt, obviously liking the sound of his own voice, made no pretence as to who was _really_ running the bounty office. One of his helpers counted credits and moved forward, handing them to Nord, who slipped them negligently into a pouch. It seemed as if every movement Nord made was understated, which in a strange way, made everyone watch him all the more. When someone moved with that amount of premeditation, it often indicated that the intellect behind the individual was substantial.

The silence was broken by various muttered exclamations, sounding like they came from the entrance to the Cantina. Again, there was a pattern of footsteps, but these were different, a completely separate cadence of steps that came closer to the arched doorway of the bounty office.

Mission murmured from the side of her mouth, "Someone's interrupting Calo Nord. Ooh, he's not gonna like this."

Bastila's eyes widened as she saw this newest source of disquiet saunter into sight. Forever, Canderous Ordo's body would be always secondary to this new ocular delight.

The stranger was tall and supremely confident. Dressed completely in black, his whipcord frame was nevertheless exuding power and a sense of a darkness that had nothing to do with colour. His eyes, too, resembled bleak obsidian in their shade and expression, and there was more than a suggestion of obstinacy in the set of his mouth and jaw. He wore a leather band around his dark buzz cut hair, and there seemed to be no part of his body that was not bearing more than its share of weapons – bandoleers, vibro-stars, blades, daggers, and two holstered weapons indicating his ambidexterity. There might even have been some other weapons that due to their obscure origins were not able to be recognised.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, that's Swagger Vasa!" Mission squealed quietly.

"That is a dangerous looking character," Eva noted.

"Yeah, just imagine him trying to cross a river," Carth snorted.

"Jealous, much?" Eva quirked an eyebrow as Carth scowled.

A gasp rose as three Lower City-ites appeared dragging three people who were clearly deceased. None of the citizens seemed feasible as the author of all this destruction. It was quite plainly this newest bounty hunter's work.

"Selven, Ashar Beno and Talislo." Vasa smirked, producing a death stick and lighting it nonchalantly. Eva considered that apart from its drugging qualities, perhaps the death stick might have neutralised some of the Hutt's noxious odour?

The Hutt gave in to a series of chuckles, it's form convulsing grotesquely. "[Well done! Selven, most dangerous assassin on Taris. Well, excluding present company, of course. Ashar, stupid, stupid person. Thought he could be a crime lord. What insolence. And Talislo, a government bounty, dangerous serial killer. I see you used 'extreme prejudice.' That comes to a round figure of 3000 credits. What, you trying to bankrupt Davik?]" Ending on a jest, the Hutt blinked at his associate, who promptly handed a stack of credits to the assassin, who was still smirking, perhaps because Calo Nord's head was unerringly pointing at him, and had been for the last three minutes.

As Swagger Vasa tucked his credits away, Calo stepped a few measured paces towards him and stated, "I don't appreciate anyone trying to upstage me."

A voice in the crowd broke through the tense atmosphere in a high pitched laugh.

Calo's head darted around, but failed to find the impudent fool. "Ordinarily, I might take up your challenge," he continued flatly, "but while we are employed by the same man I'd rather not get involved in such an awkward situation. But you won't be employed by Davik forever."

"I look forward to it," Swagger replied, taking a drag on his death stick.

After Calo Nord stepped impassively out of the room, Mission could hold herself back no longer. Wriggling out of Zaalbar's protective grasp, the young Twi'lek approached the young man hesitantly and flashing a winning smile, asked, "You're Swagger Vasa, ain't ya? _The_ Swagger Vasa?"

The room winced as Vasa butted his death stick out on the palm of his hand. A faint suggestion of a smile played around his mouth as he affirmed succinctly, "Yep."

"Could I, like, would you give me your autoprint?" Mission choked out, fumbling in her pockets for her datapad.

Eva noted the bleak expression in Vasa's eyes soften just a tad. The killer might have a soft spot for young girls. A friend, sister or cousin, perhaps?

"Sure, why not," Vasa shrugged, wiping his index finger on his shirt.

Mission scanned his fingerprint eagerly into her favourite datapad. "Oh, thanks! Man, this sure trumps Bendak Starkiller's!"

The assassin snorted softly, and gave the room a small two-fingered salute before turning, to begin the walk to the outside of the cantina. He paused before Bastila, scanning her slowly from the toes of her boots to the roots of her bottle blond hair, a rakish grin transforming his face. Bastila blushed hotly – she knew she should feel indignant, but somehow the sight of those unexpected dimples creasing his face just made her melt inside.

An alarm bell went off in Eva's head, like a Padawan Alert. "Hey, there," Eva interposed herself between the assassin and her pupil, "the dancing Twi'leks are _that_ way. You can ogle _them_." For good measure, she shaped the Force into an influential message into his head. _Don't look at her, don't touch her. You do not want anything to do with her or us._

Vasa's smile abruptly disappeared, his face twisting into a snarl as he thrust himself into Eva's space and whispered harshly against her shocked face, "Don't get into my head, _Jedi_," he spat, saying the title as if it were a curse.

Eva's hand motioned to the rest to stay out of the confrontation. "I mean you no disrespect," she began carefully, "but she is my charge, and I must safeguard her."

The anger in Swagger's face cooled a trifle, but he still reinforced his position. "It isn't wise to mess with me."

Eva's eye twitched before she responded quietly, "I have no intention to."

"Then we understand each other," Vasa stated. For good measure, he ran his eyes down Bastila again, before offering her his idea of a compliment. "Now, you, babe, for a Jedi, you ain't bad."

"You're so kind," Bastila returned acerbically, trying, for once, to channel the spirit of her mother. How was it possible to lose so much composure merely because of another person? She'd sometimes heard about the problems many Jedi had when facing the first change in life, but she had never had any such problems at that time in her existence. Perhaps the consequences were showing up now? She despised herself for her weakness, both emotionally and physically. How could merely looking at a male specimen make her legs tremble?

There was a muted reappearance of Swagger's charming grin as he opined, "Not bad at all," before resuming, well, swaggering out of the cantina.

"If he's employed by Davik, then we're in a heap of shavit," Carth muttered to Eva.

"We can only hope he's as motivated to be loyal to Davik as Canderous Ordo is," Eva offered helplessly.

Carth made a disbelieving noise. "You do know you're going to get us all killed, don't you?"

Canderous Ordo moved out of the crowd behind him. "As long as it's a worthy battle, and a superior enemy, death is not to be scoffed at."

Scowling, Carth snapped back, "Against popular opinion, I don't actually have a death wish."

"Quiet, please," Eva placed a warning hand on his arm, "We have more important things to discuss."

Canderous appeared in a good mood; he ignored Carth completely. "I heard there was a break in at the Sith Base."

"Yes," Eva agreed, shaking her head. "Someone really made a mess there."

"Did they get what they came for?" Canderous asked dryly.

"I believe they did," Eva said cautiously, after all, they were in quite a public place.

Canderous nodded once, and drew away. The group including Carth, Bastila, Mission, Zaalbar, and Eva followed him to a different area, no less crowded, but very close to the dancing Twi'leks. Though Bastila had only a hazy conception of the minds of men, she nevertheless caught the point that all would be paying their attention to the busty contortionists, not any clothed people.

Before leaving for the meeting, Eva had duplicated the sequence of Sith launch codes from her datapad on to both Carth's datapad and a spare. It was this spare she discreetly handed to Canderous, who appraised the information and nodded curtly.

Eva moistened her lips and informed him plainly, "You may have seen our little interaction with Swagger Vasa. He somehow knows Stella's occupation."

Canderous narrowed his eyes and, if possible, the flat line of his mouth flattened even more. "Vasa's not the type to give Kang extra information for free. I don't think this changes the battle plan."

"Which is?" Carth had to enquire.

"I take two of you to Davik's estate – introduce you as a 'person of interest', and while he's running background checks on you, we neutralise the security on his flagship, the _Ebon Hawk_, take her, pick up the rest of you and use the launch codes to get clear of this festering excuse for a planet. As to where we go then, I'm open to suggestion."

Bastila looked troubled. "We're going to be split up again? I'm not trying to criticise your plan, but untoward situations tend to arise when we are separated."

Eva's head jerked up suddenly. "Ah yes. You go dancing."

The young Padawan might have known it was too good to be true.

"Is it impossible for all of us to go?" Bastila asked anxiously. "It would save a stop, and if we run into opposition in the estate, surely we will be more of a fighting force with all of us."

Canderous scowled. "Armed or not, I'm an army on my own. And if you think it will be easy to get Davik to swallow the lot of you, Wookiee and all…"

"I'm sorry, Bastila," Carth apologised, refraining from darting a shrewd glance at Ordo, "Mandalorians aren't famed for eloquent persuasion without a blaster."

Eva glared at Carth, scandalized, before looking almost timidly at Ordo. The aforementioned Mandalorian merely stared at Carth silently, massive chest rising and falling as he breathed. "You got a problem with me, Republic?"

Unaffected, Carth replied, "Not at all – I just know your kind. No one ever hears of a successful Mandalorian con artist, do they?"

"Of course not," Ordo scowled. "We take what we want, we don't need to wheedle!"

"Gentlemen," Bastila began, trying to break up the tension.

Eva broke in, trying to frame words, and half-wondering if Canderous would be as touchy with the Force as Swagger Vasa had proved. "Canderous, Carth fought in the Mandalorian Wars, and was subjected to much of the propaganda that circulated then. I would like to ask you: do you feel equal to the task of persuading Davik to meet with all of us?"

Ignoring the rest now, Canderous bent one of his stares on Eva. Finally, he nodded. "Give me some time. First, let's get out of this racket."

They slipped quietly out of the cantina, one by one. Eva hung back to apologise to Carth at the first opportunity. She wondered if he would see her manipulations as detrimental to his position as leader of the group, or merely playing off his lead and achieving the desired result.

As he leant against the duracrete wall, Carth forestalled her words with a slight gesture of his hand. "I know what you were doing. You got results, and I'm not without a sense of humour. Besides, I'd rather you deal with the Mandalorian than I. But try not to take any more pot shots at me, all right?" He grinned slightly.

Eva nodded, smiling back. "The mark of a true leader is dedication to the goals of the group, not pandering to the individual."

Carth grunted. "Enough, already. You don't need to ensure my loyalty by flattery, you know."

Eva opened her mouth to answer, but Canderous came close and spoke directly to her.

"It took some fancy lying, but I got you all in with Davik."

"That's great," Eva smiled gratefully. "What's our story?"

"I put the focus on you. Davik's cunning, not all that smart, but he might recognise Bastila if he looks long enough. I told him you are a promising bunch of high-end thieves, and you're offering your service and loyalty to him. He's willing to accept you as guests in his estate, or at least until the background checks are through. But by then, we'll be burning hyperspace."

The next half hour was occupied in going to the location of Ordo's transport, and then the transit through the underground roadways and tunnels to one of the many levels of Davik's Taris estate. Either through nervousness or distrust in their company, none of the party felt like conversation, so the trip was very silent, leaving only the dull filtered noises of the flight craft that also occupied the erratically lit highways.

As the craft docked smoothly at their destination, they were suddenly overwhelmed by light from a dozen sources. Eva's eyes didn't adjust still Canderous had ushered them down a blindingly white hallway. In comparison with the often poorly lit Lower City, it seemed Davik had higher standards. Or a fear of the dark.

Mission began whining quietly as they went down yet another hallway, this time white accented with purple panels. Trying to distract her, Eva asked Bastila jokingly, "What does that colour remind you of? Personally, I'm thinking hypothermia."

Bastila smirked a little and replied, "If this truly is the crime-lord's preference, I say he has an unhealthy preference for lavender."

Unexpectedly, Canderous rumbled, "It's the colour of the few patches of skin left on his day old corpse after I am through with him."

The group exchanged similar nervous glances as they ceased speaking and fell back behind him, following obediently. Unseen, his face briefly creased in a weathered grin.

**(&X&)**

Eva's first impression of Davik was that he obviously had execrable taste, as evidenced by his shiny purple armour. During the course of the meeting, this impression would not be corrected.

Davik had been waiting in his 'throne room', flanked by his top bounty hunters, Calo Nord and Swagger Vasa. No kidding, the crime lord actually had a 'throne room' with purple highlights, with a throne, a _purple_ throne, in which he sat before his audience of Canderous and Co.

The man himself was a grizzled old scoundrel whose eyes glinted from his wrinkled face. Thinning hair adorned a dome which was moderately sized above a hooked nose and slightly petulant mouth. His voice was corrupted by a gravely tone as he broke the silence to address his employee.

"Well, Canderous, what have you brought me?"

Eva tried to reign in her sense of humour as Davik crossed his ankles genteelly under his throne.

Canderous stood in a slightly disrespectful representation of the military pose 'at ease'. "A specialised group that I think you'll find interesting."

Before the crime lord could reply, the henchman on his left, Calo Nord, spoke up. "It's not like you to partner up with anyone, Canderous. You've gone soft."

Canderous glared at Calo as if the miniature threat had turned into a new and fancy worm. "Watch it, Calo."

"Boys, calm down," Davik chided with a grin. "I don't like my men fighting each other, it's not good for business."

"I agree with your viewpoint, sir," Eva spoke up, her body language carefully neutral. "Violence for the sake of violence is a waste, if there is no goal to be achieved."

Davik raised himself up from his throne and descended down the steps, approaching Eva. "Welcome to my home. Perhaps you would introduce me to your associates."

Eva recognised the order in those words. "Yes, sir." She indicated Mission. "This is our security expert. Together with the astromech there is no civilian defence system they cannot penetrate. She is also an excellent diversionary agent." She gestured to Bastila and Zaalbar. "These two are our main assault force. The Wookiee, well, is sheer brute strength, and the girl is not only an excellent martial arts expert but is trained in stealth as well." Lastly, she pointed at Carth. "He is an ex-Republic pilot, his skills are unmatched. He was also something of an officer, and together he and I plot our plans of attack. This is a tight, well run operation."

As she spoke Eva noted the slightest tensing on the part of Swagger Vasa. Her heart pounded as anxiety flooded her mind, but she recognised that all she could do now was trust in the Force. Her only choice had been decided already.

"And why are you here on Taris?" Davik inquired, a plan forming in his mind, as Canderous had intended him to.

Eva shifted on her feet. "The sector we were working eventually got a little too hot, and our ship was an unfortunate casualty. We decided to move to another sector where we were relatively unknown, and had the bad luck to be caught in Taris's embargo."

"I see," Davik replied, dragging out the two syllables. "Then, I insist that you remain my guests for the next few days. Come, I will give you a tour of my estate."

As she peeped at Canderous from the corner of her eye, Eva noted that his satisfaction was extremely well guarded from observation. A sweeping glance of the rest of the group told her that while they were involved in various states of nervous anticipation, they were in sufficient control of themselves to act well within the limit of their parts. She was particularly impressed with Carth, who looked as if he were in a state of lolling indifference – his pose only exceeded by the extreme immobility and illegible countenance of Zaalbar's Wookiee features.

Mission's face fell as she realised that she would be required once more to tramp some distance, this time admiring a crime lord's ill gotten gains without the possibility of relieving him of some of them. She saw no relief in sight, apart from possibly sitting on T3 – but she had tried that before, and the astromech had been very indignant, nearly catching her with his stunner.

**(&X&)**

As Davik walked along beside Eva, pointing out curiosities and generally bragging, Bastila trailed behind the rest as she endeavoured to remain as unnoticeable as possible. It had nothing to do with the fact that as Calo Nord was preceding the cavalcade, Swagger Vasa was bringing up the rear.

The man himself eased along side of her. Bastila attempted to flip her hair forward to cover her face, and bowed her head. This availed her nothing, as Swagger impudently raised his head and tucked her bottle blond hair behind her ear and tweaked her chin, garnering himself a fuming look from the annoyed Jedi Princess.

"You ain't trying to avoid me, are you, Bastila?" Swagger challenged quietly.

Her eyes widened and her breath came fast. "H-how…?"

Swagger turned his head and looked forward towards the rest of the party. "I know you're that Jedi Malak wants. I could turn you and your friends in for the bounty. It's what I do."

Swallowing, Bastila searched her mind for the answers. What could she do or say to stop this situation from crashing into disaster?

Continuing, Swagger turned and stared at Bastila with those unnervingly black eyes. "But I hate Malak." He resumed watching the group ahead. "Anything I can do to mess with him, I will. But I gotta warn ya, Davik's background checks are extensive. He'll find out who you are, and then, well, all bets are off, babe."

Ignoring the epithet that concluded his speech, Bastila concentrated on the meat of his statement. "So you're not going to tell Davik what we are."

"I won't need to. He'll find out in a day, two days tops."

Bastila warred with her instincts. Something alerted her, no, pushed her, to do something. She decided to call it the Force and after all, she had to obey it.

"We won't be here that long. Something is coming, something terrible. When that does," this time, Bastila looked at him, and then glanced down and up quickly, hoping he would catch on to the small datapad card she held in her hand, "use this. It might just save your life."

Nonchalantly, Swagger palmed the card, as Davik extolled his ship and it's security measures. "And this is?"

Biting her lip, Bastila told the truth. "Sith launch codes."

Vasa's eyebrows shot up. "You're being very trusting, Bastila. That could be dangerous."

"I know you're dangerous," Bastila answered, cursing her lack of self control. "But I don't think you're dangerous to me."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Swagger muttered, casting her a fiery glance Bastila couldn't quite decipher.

"I just did," Bastila quipped weakly.

They remained silent as the tour wound up and they were escorted to their quarters. Davik said something to Eva about the dangers of leaving the suites before the security checks were done, and Eva had capitulated, verbally grovelling before him, leaving Davik with a satisfied smirk. Davik left them with Canderous to supervise them, and turned to go and do whatever it was he wanted to do, his mushroom hatted shadow following close behind him.

Suddenly, Swagger caught Bastila's hand and brought her hard into his chest, his other hand cupping her neck as he pressed his lips firmly against hers. After a moment, he released her and almost pushed her through the closing doors, his dimples firmly entrenched in his smile as he winked cheekily at her and turned to follow his boss.

"Well!" Bastila gasped.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Hi! Long time no read, I know. Apart from real life issues, interventions and massive sacrifices on my part – I was away from a computer for more than a week! Excuses, I know. I would say I'll try to do better in the future – but I think my past speaks more eloquently!**

**All of you should know that I do not own Swagger Vasa. He is, in fact, an OC created by Jen DeClan****, who writes various incredible stories here on FFN. Jen offered to let me use him as a cameo, and suggested several ideas, and this is an AU fic, so why not? I only hope I have done him justice. Besides, Bastila is drawn to dark guys – Revan, example A – so I don't need to stress anymore about creating a light love interest for her. Canderous WOULD NOT work! **

**If you want to see the way Swagger Vasa SHOULD be done, take a peek at K2: Shades of What Might Have Been – a current story that is updated wickedly fast by co-writers Jen DeClan, Trynn and Synyster Shadow, that tells a story with a compelling, fresh view. You can also see him in Jen DeClan's trilogy, and he also made an appearance in Jen's K1 parody, Luck Be A Smugger. Well, if you've read my author's notes before, you should already have read these things! **

**If you spot any errors, feel free to let me know. Every author on this site begs for reviews: that should give you some idea of how I feel!**


	19. Conflagration

**Chapter Nineteen:** **Conflagration**

_Previously:_

_Canderous took our heroes to Davik's estate. After enduring his tour and his love for purple, they retired to their room… but not before a certain bounty hunter took advantage of our prissy princess._

Bastila avoided the gaze of her team mates by looking at the floor for the entirety of the time it took her to cross the room and lower herself into a chair, drawing her knees up to her chest protectively and only just resisting the urge to bury her flaming cheeks by hiding her face. Her emotions were in a tumult. She had – quite unexpectedly, and without permission – received her very first kiss.

Time passed slowly. They had already decided to act some hours later after their arrival – in the early morning – and they were disinclined to chat much. Canderous made himself comfortable on one of the beds, the other being taken by Mission, petulant and snappish from her weariness and anxiety. Carth sat at one of the tables and periodically checked the operation of his blaster pistols, also taking some interest in watching Zaalbar perform some sort of maintenance on his bowcaster. As T3-M4 quietly recharged in a corner, Eva played a card game on her datapad, charged her lightsaber with the Force, and started composing reports to the Jedi Council.

On that point, Eva needed to draw upon her years of experience in expressing awkward incidents with tact and diplomacy so that the Jedi Council's sensibilities were not unduly ruffled. She doubted they would have appreciated hearing that much of their time had been spent in cantinas and with underground criminal gangs, but the reports had to have enough truth in them that she could offer them with complete sincerity.

It was at times such as this when Eva felt uncomfortable recalling the distrust some people had of her fellow Jedi.

Sighing, she switched the datapad off. A light tinge of pain in the front of her brain was starting to morph into a full-blown headache, and she had no wish to fight for her life with a migraine. The Force couldn't cure everything. In search of diversion, she stared around the room at its occupants, stopping at the newest member of their group, the enigmatic Mandalorian.

"So, Canderous. You must have worked on Taris for quite a while. What's your opinion of the place?" she inquired, half-expecting him to say a few sentences and sink into silence again.

The Mandalorian sat up, leaning on the headboard of the bed. His barely discernable eyebrows lowered as he replied in disgruntled tones, "Yeah, I know Taris. I've wasted my last two years in this rathole working for Davik."

Eva wondered what the crime lord's reaction would be if he heard that statement.

Half closing his eyes, Canderous pretended to be contemplating. "I suppose an accurate way to describe this place would be… cesspool, or dump." He ignored a protesting noise from Mission. "You got the rich on top, the poor being crushed underneath, and people like me trying to make a living doing the crushing. It's not exactly what you'd call spiritually fulfilling work, but it gets the bills paid, and on Taris, money can go a long way to making things easier." Closing his eyes momentarily, an expression of disillusion diffused over his face, before he opened his ice-grey eyes again and asked contemptuously, "Anything else you want to know?"

Eva shook her head. "This is not the right setting for an ethical debate."

"Nor is it the right time," Bastila interrupted suddenly. "We should get going now." Her voice vibrated in fear and urgency.

"That's not how it was planned," Mission objected, nevertheless pulling on her boots.

"No," Bastila snapped, her tone imperative. "We must go now!"

"You Jedi," Canderous drawled derisively, rolling off the bed and readying his assault blaster, "Hocus-pocus, unprofessional, weak-headed…"

His scathing discourse was interrupted by the sound of an explosion somewhere in the estate complex.

"Better add 'intuitive' and 'correct' to your rant," Bastila shot back, unclipping her lightsaber and switching it on, the bright yellow beams shooting out from both ends of the handle. "We must leave, now, or we will be destroyed."

"Watch where you point that thing," Carth chided, earning a death glare from the prim Padawan.

The group jumped to their feet and rushed around immediately, grabbing their belongings and readying their weapons. Eva squinted at her lightsaber and reluctantly activated it. The green beam of light wobbled as she shook her head half in wonderment. Once more into the breach? Fine way for a peace-loving Jedi to live.

They took barely a minute to get ready, their steps hastened as a few more explosions sounded at varying degrees of distance and placement.

"What's going on?" Mission asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Sounds like an aerial bombardment," Canderous offered, his face lightening incongruously.

"The Sith. The Sith are bombing the planet," Carth said in flat tones.

"Oh, Force," Bastila groaned, stricken. "They can't find me, so they're destroying an entire planet to kill me."

Eva's head snapped around. "We don't know anything for sure, but we'd better try to survive before we work out what's happening. Chances are we now have panicked employees to contend with as well."

"Prepare to work as a team," Carth ordered curtly. "No one gets left behind, we work together, and no arguments."

Canderous punched the door control and swaggered confidently into the hallway, the rest following somewhat more cautiously. "Get into some formation. Melee attacks up front, firepower behind."

Bastila and Mission ranged beside each other, as Eva positioned herself in front of them so she could work as a lookout and leader. The three males stalked behind, weapons ready and waiting. T3-M4 alone seemed bewildered by the turn of events, and due to the lack of interest in his placement, he shadowed the group, disinclined to make his habitual chirps and whistles.

The way from their guest rooms to the hangar was not straightforward. Eva had memorised the shortest way, which was to barrel quickly down several long hallways and through some rooms that housed control panels and conference tables. Eva had barely peeked into the first long hallway before ducking aside to avoid enemy fire from a pack of panicked Trandoshan bounty hunters.

Canderous made to step forward, but Eva halted him with a word. "Not yet. Something's coming." She could feel it in the Force – a warning, a clear intuition to keep clear of that area.

Moments later, a flash and a loud booming noise almost levelled the group as the hallway ahead collapsed in an explosion. They all moved back to avoid the rolling cloud of dust and debris that entered the room shortly before the door closed automatically.

Eva fought to keep her head clear of panic and racked her brain to remember alternate routes to the hangar, before Canderous gestured clearly to follow him and led them away, all of them following him without question, even Carth. The Mandalorian alone seemed unfazed, as he trod swiftly through the rooms, only the glint in his eye betraying his fierce enjoyment and concentration at the task at hand.

"We'll have to go through the spice labs," he roared over the noise of shifting duracrete, "It's a little longer but it will skirt around the entire damaged area."

Eva silently gestured a 'go ahead' motion with her hand, all her senses trembling on alert. Bastila was pale and tense, Mission almost tearful, and Carth grimly resolute. Among them all, only Zaalbar seemed unchanged.

Canderous led them forward, through barely lit rooms, past malfunctioning gas vents and sparking consoles. Carth had narrowly escaped being caught in a broken door, Mission had nearly electrocuted herself by almost stepping on exposed electronics, and Zaalbar had almost fallen through a weakened floor. In the short time it took them to get to the portal to Davik's spice labs, they were demoralised and stressed.

Eva leaned past, holding her lightsaber protectively in front of her body, and activated the door. As she quickly scanned the sight revealed to her, she noted the lab technicians, mostly Rodians, were freaked out and unusually violent. She fielded the blaster shots that were fired erratically her way, her lack of practise making her rusty and sending the returned bolts in unpredictable directions – like the canisters of spice stacked neatly on a shelf. They were soon fighting through an unusual sort of spice haze.

With a concentrated look, Bastila sent a vicious whirlwind spinning the spice into a painful storm stinging their targets. Eva focussed solely on deflection, steadily gaining back her old proficiency, while Carth and Zaalbar sent well aimed bolts through the mist. Mission was crouched behind an overturned counter. Canderous shot indiscriminately through it before unclipping an incendiary grenade from his belt and almost nonchalantly tossing it into the centre of the cloud. The detonation incinerated the spice particles, making it a cloud of fiery hell – and quickly incapacitating or killing their enemies outright.

Bastila staggered backwards, her left hand inspecting her reddened face and possibly singed eyebrows. "Are you insane?" she spat, glaring for a moment at the impassive Mandalorian, "You could have burned me! Is it your practise to continually employ overkill?"

Sneering, Canderous replied, "Mandalorians carry weapons powerful enough to pulverise cities. If you had a warm flush, you got off easy."

"No time for arguments," Eva said insistently. "We have a long way to go."

"Let's move," agreed Carth laconically, scowling.

"But let's be careful," Eva stressed.

Mission rose up from her crouch, covered in spice dust. "Uh, guys…?"

Horrified, Eva Force Air Brushed the blue Twi'lek and peered into her eyes. "Do you feel dizzy, flight-worthy, unusually wise, or happy?" An explosion broke into the following pause. "Wait, never mind. Everybody, just keep an eye out for Mish, okay? She may have absorbed some of the chemicals through her skin."

"I'll watch her," Carth offered quietly, preceding a chuffing growl from Zaalbar.

They hurried to the other end of the spice lab and cautiously proceeded through the next few rooms. To their advantage, they were only populated by a single guard, who seemed so petrified it was almost a mercy that Canderous put him out of his misery. By then the amount of explosion sounds had risen in frequency, and they were quite panicked. Well, all except for Mission, who had suddenly begun to indulge in quiet fits of laughter.

"What if the ship is gone?" their blue ray of sunshine giggled.

"Don't even say that," Eva begged.

"Then we die a glorious death," Canderous said firmly, although he amended it to, "Though I would rather not rot on this pathetic excuse for a planet."

"I sense that hope is not yet lost to us," Bastila ventured.

"Force willing," Eva breathed. Carth snorted.

It took some more minutes, but they reached one of the doors to the hangar. T3 zipped up to it and probed the control panel, as they no longer had much faith in Mission's slicing skills at the current time. The door opened, and the group saw in an instant two figures rushing to the lowered ramp of the Ebon Hawk.

"STOP right there," Eva hollered, raising the ramp by Force. Her telekinetic grip on the ramp caused the two people to halt in astonishment, before turning in anger.

"What have we here?" Davik growled to his companion, the diminutive Calo Nord. "Thieves in the hanger – and not by appointment."

"We're taking the Ebon Hawk. Consider it back pay," Canderous grinned coldly.

"I'm disappointed by your stupidity," Davik taunted. "You figured you'd just steal my ship for your getaway and leave me high and dry while the Sith turn the planet into dust? Sorry, but that ain't gonna happen."

"I can handle this," Calo said confidently, his face as bland as ever.

"Make it quick, Calo," Davik said, looking out the hangar opening to the clouds of smoke. "The Sith mean business. If we don't get to our ships and get somewhere safe, the bombs they're dropping will kill us all!"

Canderous and Carth dived for cover as they were targeted by Calo Nord's extremely fast firing blasters. Bastila and Eva exchanged a quick glance before converging on Davik, Bastila calmly and politely returning each blaster shot while Eva let the ship's ramp fall with a bang as she pulled out an interesting trick from her repertoire, and split. Into two.

"What the frack?!" Canderous stopped firing for a split second as his jaw fell open, not to his injury, however, as their two enemies were also momentarily gob-smacked.

Eva and her carbon copy – or the carbon copy and Eva – stalked towards Davik. He backed up, glancing at Calo, but he was otherwise occupied and likely to be so for some time. He began to get an idea, when only one of the two seemed to be deflecting his shots, so he shot at the other one to make sure. The shot impacted on that Eva who didn't falter or change expression. _Woah, freaky,_ ironically, were some of Davik's last thoughts, as the Wookiee who had snuck up behind him grabbed him and tossed him straight into the wall, where he laid still after impacting with a sickening crunch.

Mission hadn't been idle in this time, as she had eeled her way around the hangar and out of the line of fire, one hand on her mouth as she stifled her chortling. She had a magnificent view of Calo as she primed the specialty grenade and waited the exact amount of time before throwing it, catching Calo dashing in between cover, and covering his feet and lower legs in a chemical goo, which hardened and rooted him to the spot in a fraction of a second.

Quickly looking at his opposition, Calo noted the seven people advancing on him. He knew his special energy shield would hold out for some time against the blaster shots, but he wasn't ready to pit it against the sustained energy the lightsabers the enemy had. So he pulled out his ace in the hole. Holding up one of his signature thermal detonators, he spat into the ensuing lull:

"You may have me outnumbered and outgunned, but I'm not going down easy – I'll take all of you with me. This thermal detonator will blow us all to bits."

As he activated the explosive's timer, Bastila glanced upwards and noted that the damaged rafter directly above him was shuddering and moving, and Eva had merged back into her single identity. Yanking on Eva's arm, Bastila jerked her backwards and further out of harms way as the massive length of steel hurtled to the floor, driving the hapless Calo through the deck and out of sight.

There was no time to wonder or marvel at the turn of events – they all rose and staggered to the Ebon Hawk's ramp, Carth blindly heading in the direction he thought correctly was the cockpit. Eva motioned Bastila to accompany him, which the Jedi did with lips white from strain. It wasn't long before the Hawk rose up from the ground and started to travel through the air, somewhat jolted and rough, as Eva crouched on a bunk with her arms around Mission. She could feel the difference when the artificial gravity kicked in and heard the disconcerting noise of enemy fire, and Canderous hurling taunts to uncaring space as he operated the ship's guns in the turret located on the ship's top surface.

Eva wondered if she should feel guilty for wishing for oblivion when billions of sentients had gotten just that.

**(&X&)**

"Frack," cursed Swagger Vasa as he dodged a crumbling wall. With his usual cold calm deliberation, he knew he couldn't possibly reach the hangar with the best ship – the Ebon Hawk – but he did recall that Calo Nord's ship was located nearby and was his best chance to remain un-crispy. He somewhat enjoyed the death race he was running.

As he raced up the lowered ramp of the Dark Shadow his ears caught the faint sound of blasters firing. Disregarding it as Davik's panicked henchmen, he made it inside the ship just as debris from the ceiling landed behind him on the ramp. Without stopping for a pause, he swept into the cockpit and began powering up the ship, noticing the pile of scrap on the ramp wouldn't hinder it closing. What he didn't realise, however, was that the hanger the Shadow was stored in was directly beneath the Ebon Hawk's hangar, and the debris that had fallen from the ceiling contained the bruised but essentially alive body of Calo Nord. As Swagger lifted the ramp, Calo's body slid unceremoniously to the comparative safety of the ship's deck plates. He would wake sometime after Swagger realised he couldn't outfly and outshoot the Sith at the same time, and allowed the Sith to escort the Shadow into captivity onboard the Leviathan, Darth Malak's flagship, and the destroyer of the civilisation of Taris. After all, though Swagger Vasa wasn't fond of Dark Jedi – he wasn't terribly fond of the Republic, either.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Hello again! I just have to say this: WE'RE OFF TARIS!! WOOHOO!**

**This probably wasn't up to my usual standard, mostly due to the excessive amount of action scenes – scenes I do not seem to be able to write properly. Oh, well. Nor did I intend to inject a lot of pathos into this chapter. They scrambled and barely got away with their lives – later will be the time for reflection and the realization that an entire planet was lost. And if I spent any more time on this sad excuse for a chapter – well, you'd never get it!**

**If you want to know how Eva 'split' herself, it is a documented Force power – called Force Projection. According to Wookiepedia, it is a: "**Mysterious Jedi ability which only a Jedi Master can use to create an apparition similar to oneself, visible to all and able to intercept fire.**" I think it's cool. Reminds me of an old car movie – I think called Viper, or something.**

**Well, now you know how Calo got off Taris, in my version, at least. His ship's name was hard to think up, so I kind of cheated and used a fairly generic name. You wouldn't believe, though, how tempted I was to call Calo Nord's ship **_**Mushroom**_**. I think that would have been very fitting, don't you?**


	20. Transportation

**Chapter Twenty:** **Transportation**

_Previously:_

_Taris went boom._

As the Ebon Hawk slowly cruised through space, Eva tended to the chemically unbalanced azure teenager currently in her charge. The older Jedi gently lulled Mission into a dreamless sleep via the Force, both to sleep off the effects of her inadvertent spice dose and also to escape her natural grief over the destruction of her home planet and everyone she had ever known. Eva hazily recalled that Mission had once mentioned the existence of a brother, and regretted not discussing it further with her. Doubtless he had perished along with Taris, if he hadn't already been dead. After all, he wasn't with Mission before, was he?

Eva rose from the bunk, her knees cracking with stiffness and cold. She had covered Mission with a blanket, but the ship's thermostat would have to be raised for the crew to walk around in comfort. She headed to the cockpit to ascertain that it would be done and also to inquire about their next destination, should it have been decided without her. As she passed the garage's portal, she glanced in and silently acknowledged Canderous. In all likelihood, he was bored, as he was at the workbench tinkering with his assault blaster. On the other hand, the weapon had had quite a workout, so perhaps he was doing simple maintenance. Eva couldn't be bothered to tell which.

As she approached the cockpit, the raised voices indicated a mediator was sorely needed.

"We must head to Dantooine. The Masters must be told of this," Bastila's voice stated, laden with emphasis.

"What, and be sitting targets? You can't have forgotten what happened to Taris already! Malak bombed it into dust and there was nothing we could do to stop them! There's still nothing that we can do to stop them doing it again," Carth's voice answered back angrily. There was a certain sharpness in his tone, and Eva realised that Taris must have been a very painful parallel to what had happened to his home world and family.

"And so – what? We keep moving? For how long? How far? We need to rest, recuperate and reprovision, Carth! You shouldn't take it for granted Malak will repeat this… this atrocity." Bastila's voice cracked, and she sighed deeply as Eva entered the room.

"We have no guarantee he won't," Carth pointed out grimly. "We were the whole reason he bombed Taris in the first place… and Taris isn't the first planet he's bombed. I'd _like_ to think it would be his last…" he shook his head.

"Carth, Bastila," Eva murmured quietly in acknowledgement. "We should be safe for a while at Dantooine. It's a small farming world on the Outer Rim, unremarkable in every way. Most people don't even know a Jedi Enclave is there."

"Does Malak?" Carth asked shrewdly.

Eva's winced as she replied, "He does, but it … he wouldn't likely place any importance on it. When he was there, it was a minor Enclave, a training academy where few students were kept, more of a centre of learning and meditation than anything else. There are no military bases, no large cities, nothing else that could possibly attract him. It is our safest bet."

Carth let out a long sigh. "I hope you know what you are doing," he nodded at Bastila, who keyed in the coordinates, before he engaged the hyper drive. Eva grasped the back of Bastila's chair to keep her feet as the ship lurched before settling into the smooth lanes of hyperspace.

"Carth," Eva broke the silence again, grimacing at the abruptness of her voice, "you should rest. Have a shower and get rid of the rest of the fake-tan, relax a little. Bastila and I can keep watch – I know enough to tell what the lights mean, and Bastila's a trained pilot. You've been on guard for too long."

Carth laughed mirthlessly. "You want me to relax after what we've just been through? Are you Jedi really that emotionless?"

Bastila huffed as Eva frowned, disliking the connotation. "I don't mean that at all, but you're a soldier; you know as well as any of us that you have to put the past in the past." As a glint of anger began to kindle in his eyes Eva amended, "Grieving about Taris is natural, of course, but it doesn't solve anything to work until you drop. Take care of your body – your mind will take more time, I know."

Carth fell against the back of his chair and ran a hand over his eyes. "I'd like to sleep; I really would, but I doubt I could manage it unless I took tranquillisers, and I'm very wary of them since… well, I'm careful with them. I'll be fine for a while."

Clearing her throat, Eva offered, "I know you're sceptical of the Force, Carth, but if you like, I can put you into a sleep – a dreamless sleep, for at least six hours. After that, you might dream, but you'd be a bit more rested. It probably would be better if you could be a bit more refreshed when it comes to landing the Hawk."

Furrowing his forehead, Carth half-twisted in his seat to look intently at the Jedi. She smiled and held up her right hand. "I promise not to delve into your mind or make you believe you're the vice-chancellor's postboy or any other false thing. I will perform exactly as I have stated and you shall suffer no ill effects if you partake of my offer."

"I'll have a shower first," Carth relented, before rising to his feet tiredly and heading out of the cockpit.

Eva nodded in response and watched him as he left, before settling herself in the captain's seat and turning her head towards Bastila.

"You are very kind to the Commander," Bastila said without any inflexions in her voice.

"I'm not an innately mean person," Eva responded, examining Bastila's set countenance. "It helps that he is coming to regard me as a contemporary, similar in age and so forth."

"He is certainly more relaxed with you than with me. And he was much more amenable than I would have anticipated to your suggestions, given the circumstances."

"All right, Bastila. Speak."

A moment passed before Bastila answered. "What is there to speak about? We're alive."

With a searching look, Eva questioned, "And do you feel guilty about that?"

"Guilty that I'm alive?" Bastila asked, quirking an eyebrow. "No, certainly not." More silence, before Bastila admitted, "I feel guilty that I am alive at the cost of so many lives, however."

Eva stared at hyperspace for a moment before saying simply, "I know."

"Do you?" Bastila surprised herself by asking Eva that, voiced in a shrill whisper. "Do you know what it's like to have a whole planetful of murders on your conscience?" After that, Bastila locked her lips, furious at herself for saying that much.

Contemplating hyperspace gave Eva no more answers than she already had. In such times as this, Eva could only offer sincerity and hope it was enough.

"Do you never wonder what might have happened if Malak had had someone to rely on, to look up to, during the Mandalorian Wars?" Eva asked suddenly, her voice husky. "Before then, I was the person Malak looked up to. We were inseparable. But I chose to listen to the Council, and he chose to listen to the Republic. Which choice was correct? I didn't turn to the Dark Side, but Malak saved the Republic before endangering it. And perhaps… if I had been stronger, if I had been braver, if I had been loyal to my friend instead of the Council… perhaps things might have been different and Taris would never have been put in danger."

Eva raised her eyes and looked at her Padawan, who was almost pitifully spellbound at her words. "You cannot change the past. You can hate yourself for it, but in the end, it changes nothing. The most important lesson you can ever learn is to be able to take the crushing defeats, pick yourself up at the end of them and move on. Or," Eva's words grew fainter as her speech became introspective, "or, you can stay in a kind of limbo, distract yourself with whatever has the power to take your attention from the important things, and let others make the difference you should be striving for. We all cope differently. Do we cope the right way or the wrong way? Who can say? We all have to live with ourselves, or we eventually self-destruct. The only thing I know, Bastila, is that no one has the answers. And the reason for that, is that there are no right answers. And no wrong ones, really. It won't matter very much in a thousand years anyway."

Pursing her lips, Bastila murmured sadly, "My old Master would not have given me half-answers. She would have stated to me clearly how I should behave and why."

Eva inclined her head in agreement, yet she answered, "You're not a child any more, Bastila. You have to make your own decisions, hopefully for the right reasons. I can offer you guidance, but I cannot command you to feel the way you should. Especially as no one really knows the right thing anyway."

With those words, Eva rose from the seat and stretched, and left some parting words before leaving the cockpit. "And, for the record, Bastila: Malak murdered those people. Not you. If you are to go on, you must accept that."

Bastila stared into the swirling void of hyperspace as she listened to the retreating sound of Eva's footsteps. "Ah, that's the question. Can I accept this?" she whispered. "And the answer is…"

There were no answers from the void.

As Eva wandered away from the cockpit, rightly thinking Bastila wasn't going to sleep any time soon, she decided to make a scouting trip to the cargo hold, where their food supplies likely would be. She was intrigued as to what sort of foodstuffs a crime lord thought appropriate for his 'baby'.

When the door slid open, she was able to have an excellent view of Zaalbar rapaciously stuffing his jaws with some kind of biscuits. The moment the light highlighted him he froze, crumbs falling from his lips and into his pelt.

"I take it I'm interrupting?" Eva asked after a moment.

The Wookiee stared at her unblinkingly, a few more dry morsels falling loose from his mouth.

"All right then," Eva nodded, somewhat as a loss for words as most would be after encountering their first ravenous Wookiee. "Do try and leave some for the rest of us."

She could have wandered to the garage and talked to Canderous, but she didn't quite feel equal to the task. She felt her hands tremble and looked down at them, surprised. She prided herself on her imperturbability, her detachment from emotion that gave her the ability to look at situations dispassionately and justly, but perhaps it couldn't stand up against a planet wide genocide. Either that, or she was fooling herself anyway, along with the majority of Jedi. She headed back to the cockpit, after all, it seemed like the accepted place for the emotionally shattered.

Half an hour later, her comm. beeped briefly. She nodded to Bastila distractedly, figuring that the very proper soldier that Carth was would probably not be bunking in the same room as the girl teen. Luckily, the Ebon Hawk had two small dormitories. Eva found that strange on a smuggling ship, but let it go. For all she knew, it could have smuggled people, too.

She knocked briefly on the side of the open door frame before moving inside the room, finding Carth fully dressed, clean-shaven and lying atop the blankets, arms crossed behind his head and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey," she said, mentally wincing at her eloquence. Had all her self confidence dwindled away after she had admitted her weakness to herself?

"How's Bastila?" he returned softly. "This has got to be hard on her."

"That's an understatement," Eva said softly. "She tries so hard to be self possessed and competent, but she's still a teenager, and somewhat emotionally immature." Her eyes dropped as she scolded herself for telling him what he didn't need to know.

"She has you to fall back on," Carth offered.

Eva laughed briefly. "I doubt she finds that comforting. We've only been Master and Padawan for a year, and, quite frankly, our personalities don't mesh that well. If it weren't for the mutual interest in the various uses of the Force, we wouldn't be even as close as we are."

"Still, you're there. You've been in her place – well, actually, I hope not," Carth backtracked awkwardly, "but you're older and wiser."

"Older, yes. Wiser…" she sighed and tried to pull herself together. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying these things."

Carth wouldn't give up the topic. "Who do you fall back on, Eva? Bastila relies on you, the fate of the galaxy is partly on you… and I've had some time to think about my behaviour on Taris. It was unbecoming of a soldier."

Eva raised an eyebrow. "Really? After what you've gone through, I think you've been remarkably well behaved."

Carth scowled. "Please, don't say that. I've heard enough of that from everybody else. I'm not looking for pity."

"Does it help if I say it's empathy? You say I'm carrying a heavy responsibility – does it make me condescending to recognise your own burden?" Eva's lips quirked in a half smile.

Carth returned it slightly. "Okay, I'll let you off the hook. But I was out of line back there – I shouldn't have lost my temper."

Eva scoffed. "You think that was losing your temper? I'll have to introduce you to one of the Jedi Council – a certain Vrook Lamar. Arrogant son of a kath. He just can't shut up."

Carth chuckled a little. "I guess I have something to look forward to, then. More Jedi. Eva, I noticed Mission was out like a light."

"I thought it best if she slept off the hallucinogens. It's the same thing I offered to you. No dreams, no side effects."

Drawing a deep breath, Carth nodded. "Do it."

Eva placed her hands on either side of Carth's face. His expression tightened in anxiety or discomfort. "Relax," Eva commanded. She sent the soothing waves of the Force directly into Carth's mind, watching his face slacken and his eyelids drop. When she felt he was deep enough into sleep, she grabbed one of the blankets off the bunk bed and draped it over his large form. A shudder ran over her as she remembered doing the same thing to an even larger man who had once meant almost everything to her.

She retreated to the cockpit as quickly as she could. Peace, however, was far from that erstwhile retreat, as Bastila's scornful voice rang out.

"Bold talk for a broken down mercenary serving at Davik's heel. I'd call you his pet kath hound, but they have enough loyalty not to turn on their masters!"

"Insults?! Perhaps if the Jedi had trained you to be as sharp in battle as you are with your words you might be winning this war, you spoiled little Jedi princess!" Canderous seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Spoiled!? I was not spoiled! I had the same training as everybody else! You are nothing but a…" Bastila halted her tirade as she saw her Master approaching in the corner of her eye. "No, I will not do this. _There is no emotion, there is peace._"

"That's the problem with you Jedi," Canderous grizzled, balked of his prey, "always preaching about peace. It's no wonder Malak's winning this war."

"It might have something more to do with superior firepower than philosophy, Canderous," Eva said mildly, seating herself behind the pilot's seat and looking up benignly at the muscle bound mercenary. "But I doubt you came up here to discuss Malak's tactics or arsenal."

"Master," Bastila began in a tight voice, "the Mandalorian came to discover our destination, and was displeased to find that we are heading to Dantooine. I gather he would prefer Nar Shadaa or Coruscant, somewhere where his talents are in demand."

"Dantooine's a farmer's world," Canderous assented, "I'm not the kind to lay my weapons down. Not even for a vacation."

Eva appraised him, her mind working, albeit sluggishly. "There is a chance that we might be able to bring you along on the continuation of our mission. Taking into account the action we have already seen, I assume there will be plenty of opportunities for you to indulge in your favourite activity."

"Master!" Bastila said, scandalised. "You cannot possibly mean that! The Mandalorian is violent and heedless, as well as a traditional partner with the Sith! There is no way the Jedi Council will allow it!"

Eva ignored her. "Provided I can get sanction from the Council, I would be prepared to offer you an eighth of the spoils we find. I would ask for your loyalty, but should the mission go well, there is a chance we could be taking the fight directly to Malak himself."

Canderous' eyes glittered. "The glory of battle at its hardest," he mused.

"Feel free to think it over," Eva offered.

"No need," Canderous shrugged, offering his hand.

Eva grasped it in her own, and stoically refused to wince as his firm grip bruised the soft flesh. With a nod, the Mandalorian exited the cockpit, presumably to go back and work on his weapons, as he didn't seem at all ready to sleep. Eva shook her maligned digits tenderly, suppressing a string of invective as she employed a mild form of Heal.

"I really don't think that this agreement with Ordo will work out, Master," Bastila warned her.

"He's an excellent shot, courageous to a fault, and provided we act honourably, his own code requires him to do the same," Eva pointed out reasonably, "and if we only needed to employ stealth, then the various Jedi Shadows would have already won the war. There will be times when there is no other choice but to go forward despite opposition."

"You anticipate the Jedi Council will extend our mission?" Bastila queried, eyebrows raising. "It was a failure, so _why_?"

"We're pretty much all they have left," Eva shrugged sadly. "I'm one of the few who has an insight into Malak's mind, and we've managed to survive his attacks. That's about all the Jedi Council needs."

"And what happens to our various crew members?" Bastila inquired testily, "excluding the Mandalorian."

Eva frowned thoughtfully. "The Commander would be an asset. Not only an exceptional pilot, but a seasoned soldier with an excellent grasp of tactics and what seems like an unshakable loyalty to the Republic. Perhaps I can request the Council to make some effort to secure him for us from the Fleet. T3-M4, well, we bought him, he should stay with us, at least for the duration of this mission. Speaking of which, Mission…" Eva paused.

"She will undoubtedly have to be placed somewhere safe. Perhaps she could reasonable employment in the Enclave for the meantime," Bastila suggested.

Snickering suddenly, Eva shook her head. "I don't think so. It's an excellent idea, if you want her to be miserable and make everyone else irritated. She's used to a big, dangerous city, and I doubt she can get used to the tranquillity of Dantooine. She'd be pressed not to commit suicide."

"She'd be safe," Bastila asserted, unmoved.

"I think it would be best if we took her with us. She can no doubt be useful on the ship, and if we need to employ stealth, I have no doubt she'll come in handy. Not to mention the fact that she'll be useful in raising funds. Honestly," Eva scowled, "I swear the Jedi have gone so long without possessions that they don't know how expensive it is to live, or accomplish missions. They probably will send us off somewhere with a smile and precious few credits."

"We have our gifts," Bastila reprimanded, offended that Eva was maligning the Jedi.

"True, but they also teach us that using them to secure things is a path to the Dark Side," Eva grimaced, shaking her head again. "It's like they want us to solve some incredible puzzle so we can receive enlightenment, when all it really boils down to is 'try your best'."

"Perhaps they know something we don't," Bastila conjectured stiffly.

"Perhaps," Eva nodded, yet unconvinced. Her hands and legs were beginning to tremble again. "Will you be all right for the next few hours?"

"I cannot see myself resting as yet," Bastila answered.

"Then I will refresh myself," Eva informed her, turning away quickly and moving out. She made her way to the only 'fresher the Ebon Hawk had, and locked the door, before sinking to the floor and holding her head in her hands.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Hey there! Sorry for the delay, but I've been caught up in the RPG Mass Effect, a game released last year by Bioware. If you want to spend all your time for the next week or so on the computer, it is excellent! Oh, and for Carth fans, the female's love interest is voiced by Raphael Sbarge. You might just be a tad creeped out by the fact that your female character is voiced by Jennifer Hale (Bastila) but she does an excellent job, very soldierly. As I'm quite new to the sci-fi genre, it was completely fresh for me, but you may find it otherwise. And there are some bits in it that make you scream in frustration. Lots and lots of elevator music. In elevators. Going forever… *shudder***

**Well, this was not a barrel of laughs, but then, a planet just blew up. The crew has to find their emotional feet again, not to mention their new assignments, and then we can have some more fun. Well, everybody but Canderous. Like he gives a hoot in hell.**

**As usual, I don't think this was very good. I might need some perspective, or maybe it isn't that good. If it is good, then good! If it's not, that's okay too, because it gives you a chance to review and tell me off. And I like reviews. * smile winningly ***


	21. Destination

**Chapter Twenty One:** **Destination**

_Previously:_

_As they headed to Dantooine, Eva tried to be a metaphorical bulwark while quietly breaking down. Bastila was brittle but not yet broken, Canderous was recalcitrant and recruited, and Carth and Mission slept dream free while Zaalbar raided the food stores._

Eva was drifting in and out of sleep when the Ebon Hawk broached Dantooine's atmosphere. Bastila had looked in on her briefly before feeling an uncharacteristic pity for her. She welcomed the feeling, and feeling somewhat magnanimous, chose not to wake Eva. Bastila sat in the co-pilot's chair beside Carth, who had replaced Canderous in cockpit duty shortly before they left hyperspace.

"Dantooine Air Control, this is the Ebon Hawk. We have Jedi Revan and Jedi Bastila on board. Request directions for landing," Carth stated over the radio.

"Affirmative, Ebon Hawk. We are sending you the landing coordinates… now. Please advise the Jedi that the Council wishes to meet them immediately."

Carth glanced over to Bastila. "The Jedi control Dantooine's airspace, too?"

"The authorities work closely with us," Bastila replied brusquely, "as they should. There are few of them and when required, we offer assistance. When appropriate."

"Figures," Carth muttered.

Bastila ignored him. It was getting easier and easier to do.

The Ebon Hawk coasted down toward the large stone edifice that was the Jedi Enclave. A flock of startled birds flew diagonally across the bow of the ship and impacted the front of the vessel, causing Carth to grit his teeth and hope that the shields held out just enough so that none of them got stuck in vital machinery. He did not want to spend his limited time planet side wiping bird innards out of the turret grooves.

As he worked his pilot magic and set the Ebon Hawk down expertly in a spacious open-air hangar area, he heard someone stifle a yawn behind him. As he checked off the systems in a blur of movements, he glanced around briefly and recognised an Eva-like blur.

"Good morning," he offered, setting the last few controls decisively and rolling his shoulders.

"Is it?" Eva grouched, sniffling and pulling at her hair with her fingers. "You sound rested."

"What can I say?" Carth spread his hands, "you Jedi are actually good for something."

Bastila frowned as Eva rolled her eyes and quipped, "Imagine that. Guess all the funds that we divert from the Fleet are justified, then."

"Well…" Carth dragged the tone out doubtfully, a faint smile twitching his lips.

"Did we get a summons?" Eva asked Bastila.

"Naturally," Bastila answered, her brow creasing with slight annoyance. "We should go immediately."

Carth lifted an eyebrow. "We?"

"Master Revan and I," Bastila clarified, her countenance stern. "You and the rest of your companions should stay on the ship until arrangements can be made."

"Last time I checked, I wasn't under the Jedi's jurisdiction," Carth objected.

Eva stepped in again, suppressing a sigh, "Carth, you know us Jedi. We need lots of time to make decisions. In the meantime, though, you can contact the Fleet on the Ebon Hawk's communications systems and receive your orders, as well as update them on the situation. Your commanding officers will probably appreciate your input rather than a report from the Jedi Council."

"Heck, yeah," Carth agreed.

"You can tell Canderous I'll come back later and we'll go on a kath hunt," Eva added, musing, "he'd like that. And Mission would probably like to see the famous 'Dantooine plains' after Bastila talked about them so much."

Bastila blushed. "Dantooine is home to me, Master. I am at peace when I am in her wilderness. Do you not feel the same?"

Eva shrugged. "I guess Dantooine is as much a home to me as Coruscant. I've spent enough time on both planets." Drawing her brows together suddenly and touching a hand to her temple, Eva added dryly, "That was a not so gentle reminder from dear Lamar. Unless I want a throbbing headache, we're going to have to check in soon, Bastila. Will you put the ramp down now, Carth?"

"Sure thing," Carth nodded, a corner of his mind perceiving the many advantages to not being a Jedi. "Perhaps you can organise a change of clothing for the rest of us, too."

Eva nodded understandingly. The fact was that despite the bathing facilities hidden away on the ship, each person had only a single outfit each to wear. The result was that the Ebon Hawk air purifiers worked overtime, so to speak. Eva had, on occasion, been struck by a stray whiff of something that fiercely brought to mind the information that some of their companions had gone through sewers and trash vents, and Zaalbar had unfortunately been a little more pungent than he had seemed on Taris. Not only that, but the finer fabrics that comprised the clothing Bastila wore had not been able to stand the rigor of their adventures, and were a little ripped and torn. The menswear Eva had appropriated for herself from Carth had been much more sturdy, but necessarily had it's own discomforts, such as the fact that it was never meant to fit her well endowed female form and chafed in certain areas.

Bastila and Eva made their way down the ship to the loading ramp, necessarily coming into Canderous' view, as he was in the doorway opposite. Either the ship's garage held some fascination for him, or he merely decided to monopolise the largest room on the ship.

"Going somewhere?" Canderous queried abruptly.

"We're going to fill in the Jedi Council. We'll be back soon, so try not to kill anyone while we're gone," Eva said flippantly, while musing distantly the very unpleasant but somehow believable scene of Canderous knee deep in bloody corpses.

"I'll make no promises," Canderous returned gruffly.

Eva gently pushed the scowling Bastila toward the ramp.

"That Mandalorian will be troublesome," Bastila vowed, tilting her head up at her Master. "The Council will almost certainly disapprove of this."

"In any case, it is not your decision, Padawan," Eva admonished her calmly.

Rebuked, Bastila lapsed into righteous silence as they briefly caught their bearings upon exiting the Ebon Hawk. Eva had been deployed from Dantooine on many missions, and immediately recognised the walled plaza like area they were docked in. Despite her noncommittal words to Carth, she appreciated the fresh air and herbal scents wafting by on the breeze that ruffled her sleep mussed hair. It was bordering on late morning in this area of the planet, and the golden sunshine warmed the paved grounds and brought bright colours out of the sculpted gardens and mosaic patterns. The footfalls of the various Jedi moving about were mixed with the sound of water being gently spilled from aesthetically pleasing fountains.

With a sigh, Eva stopped her sentimental observation and began to tread purposefully towards the chambers the Council ordinarily used to gather together and brief Knights and Masters on various tasks and missions. Past chiselled stone walls, carved sliding wooden doors and ornamental horticulture, treading over geometrical designs, nodding at a few Jedi she knew and some she didn't, Eva felt all over again the unreality of her surroundings after having endured yet another mission. It was always very strange, but somehow Eva never felt the Jedi Enclave was real until she had been there several weeks and become accustomed to it all over again. It was as if the serenity and order of the place was in direct opposition to everything the universe outside was made of.

The protocol droid outside of the Council Room looked impassively at her as she waited a moment for the automatic doors to open. As they slid almost noiselessly aside, she tried not to look too far ahead to see the Council members. Employing her own brand of tunnel vision, she moved sedately towards the centre of the circular room, only looking up when she stopped to survey the Jedi assembled there.

There was Vandar Tokare, a small wizened alien, Dorak Quinn and Vrook Lamar, human Jedi, and Zhar Lestin, a Lethan Twi'lek. There were other members of the Council, but it wasn't necessary or desirable to have more than a representative force on any one planet, especially in times of war. However, Eva was willing to bet that Atris was rooting around in the Archives Room in the Enclave, just because Eva disliked seeing her at any time.

"Greetings, Revan, Bastila," Master Vandar offered in that strange voice those of his species invariably had. "We are pleased that you survived the great tragedy that befell Taris."

"We are, too," Eva agreed, drawing a slight smile from both Dorak and Zhar, and a frown from Vrook. "Our mission was not a complete failure, but the loss of Taris…" Eva hesitated, and slightly changed the subject. "On our return from Coruscant, we were able to receive reports from three of our sources." She dug a datapad out of a pocket and handed it to Dorak. "All the records gathered indicate most, if not the entirety, of Jedi Shadows have been killed or turned. We are no closer to discovering the source of Malak's resources and we are steadily being weakened."

Bastila paled. Eva had not given her leave to examine the information, so this was the first she had heard of it.

"The datapad also has my reports on our survival from Taris destruction, completed yesterday," Eva offered.

"We cannot stop our operations. We need to find the source of Malak's power," Master Zhar stressed.

"And so we blithely hand over our remaining force to Malak with our blessing and cause the extinction of the Jedi, plunging the galaxy into a darkness that the universe will not recover from in a millennium?" Vrook returned scathingly.

"If we do not succeed in checking Malak soon, we will never be able to do so," Zhar asserted.

Vandar stopped the debate with a look. "This is a matter that will take much discussion and time. We cannot make a decision immediately."

Eva tilted her head at the diminutive person. "Will you be using us again, Master Vandar?"

He held up a clawed hand. "No decisions now, Revan. No doubt you and your companions could use some time to compose yourselves after your ordeal."

"We have Commander Onasi, Mandalorian Canderous Ordo, Wookiee Zaalbar and Mission Vao on board the Ebon Hawk. They were all vital to our escape, and pose very little threat to the Enclave. I request room and board for them and the freedom to leave the Enclave," Eva stated clearly and respectfully.

"A Mandalorian?" Vrook grimaced. "We have enough of those on Dantooine already, Revan. While I hold with the Jedi principles governing prisoners and hostiles…"

"There are Mandalorians and there are Mandalorians," Eva stated unequivocally, "Canderous Ordo is honourable. I trust his word."

Zhar glanced at Bastila. "Padawan? Do you concur with Master Revan?"

Bastila hesitated. "Master Revan believes his words may be trusted."

Eva gave Bastila an extremely wry look. The presumptuous girl returned the look with one mixed with innocence and self-righteousness. Eva contemplated whacking her in the back of the head.

"You may house your companions within the Enclave," Vrook allowed reluctantly, "but you will allot them chambers in the same section as your own, and they may not leave the Enclave without you accompanying them."

"Meals will be delivered to their rooms," Zhar said delicately, "to prevent differences of opinion between our guests and our Jedi."

"And if their attire is in the same condition as yours is, take them to supplies to get them properly clothed. The last thing we need is indecent exposure from a Mandalorian, of all people," Vrook muttered.

"Thank you, Master Vrook," Eva bowed.

"However, in return for lodging them, they will make themselves useful with whatever tasks we may assign them," Zhar stipulated, pleased with acquiring as-good-as-free help.

"In such tasks I will have to accompany them," Eva clarified for herself, a cynical look directed at the Twi'lek.

"Indeed," Zhar agreed, "and Bastila will, as usual, remain in the Enclave for her meditation schedule and the usual evaluation by us."

Her slightly antagonistic impulses aside, Eva felt a moment of sympathy for her Padawan. "Bastila aided Commander Onasi in piloting the Ebon Hawk. Perhaps it would be for the best if she were allowed to rest today and centre herself before placing her under your scrutiny. We are all aware of how much respect and awe she holds for the Council."

Bastila was torn between displeasure at being talked over and gratitude that Eva was interceding in her behalf.

"Perhaps that would be for the best," Zhar agreed, exchanging a glance with Master Vandar. "Very well. You must be eager to settle in. We will summon you when we have more to tell you."

"Thank you, Masters," Eva stated perfunctorily, sketching a somewhat less graceful bow than that which Bastila performed beside her. As they exited the vaulted room and started back down the hallway, Eva opined, "That was boring."

Bastila ignored the slight towards her superiors and said uneasily, "I had no idea that the reports were so unfavourable."

Eva glanced around casually before replying. "Why should you? So, times are desperate. What does worrying about it achieve? Specifically, what does _your_ worrying about it achieve?"

"I should have liked to have known," Bastila insisted quietly.

"It serves no purpose. And you should not inform any one else of it, either," Eva instructed.

"The Republic is relying on us to be the instrument of Malak's destruction," Bastila pointed out.

"And you, better than anyone, know what power morale wields over an army," Eva countered.

Bastila was left unsatisfied, but unable to voice her disquiet.

**(&X&)**

The entire crew of the Ebon Hawk now followed Eva down the labyrinthine passages of the Enclave. Their reaction was perhaps different than one would expect – Mission was uncharacteristically silent, not because of the grandeur, but because of her recent loss. Carth was neither belligerent or awestruck – instead he seemed a little tired and preoccupied. Canderous smirked at every uneasy glance random Jedi cast at his obvious Mandalorianism, especially as Eva had not been able to get him to relinquish his enormous assault rifle. Only Zaalbar seemed to be predictably impassive.

As they turned down another corridor Mission broke the silence to ask quietly, "Do you actually know where you're going?"

Eva smiled kindly at her. "Eh, there aren't many places in this Enclave I don't know how to get to. Firstly, we're going to the supply room, where our kind Jedi representative will give you all changes of clothing, and then I'll take you to your assigned quarters, which will be near mine. I will be at your service during your stay here," Eva grimaced as she realised she sounded like the epitome of a hotel assistant.

"At my service?" Canderous' voice broke in, gleefully sinful. "Isn't that against your code?"

Eva actually blushed. "Get out, Mandalorian. You know what I meant."

Canderous shrugged his mighty shoulders. "You can't kill a man for trying."

"Wanna bet?" Eva muttered, before reverting to her most saccharine voice. "I'm flattered, Canderous, I really am, but I'm afraid you're just too much man for little old me."

"Do you mind changing the subject?" Carth broke in irritably.

"Are you saying you like Eva, Canderous?" Mission enquired curiously.

Eva broke in before Canderous could reply. "Mish, he's a man. They'll take what they can get."

"Hey!" Carth objected.

"It's true," Canderous admitted shamelessly, "though I do like having a nice armful rather than a bag of bones."

Bastila interrupted them with a voice like ice. "I suggest you refrain from your vulgar ruminations while you reside in this Enclave, Mandalorian. Jedi have remarkably little interest in such matters. And we are at our destination. Perhaps our conversation can be limited to useful subjects."

They found themselves in a room filled with shelves laden with various items; boots, clothes of many shapes, sizes and colours, and various other utensils. Standing behind a nondescript desk was a middle-aged Jedi woman with a cynical expression on her face.

"Master Revan," she said without a hint of respect, "fancy seeing you down here. May I ask what it is you require?"

"Certainly, Knight Rena," Eva said in a monotone, her eyes hard and bright, "I require you to outfit my companions with the appropriate garb. Apart from the Wookiee, naturally."

Knight Rena ran her eyes professionally up and down the group. Canderous returned the perceived compliment with a smirk, which Knight Rena ignored completely. "Right. There'll be no problem with the Twi'lek and the male, and I have Bastila's measurements on file, but the Mandalorian may prove troublesome. I haven't personally met any Jedi built on his scale."

"See what you can do anyway," Eva commanded. It should be no problem. Canderous _was _impressive, but even he wasn't a patch on Malak.

As Rena walked toward the back of the room and started rummaging in various piles of cloth, Mission asked Eva, "You're not going to get different clothes?"

"Master Revan doesn't wear standard Jedi garb," Bastila informed her.

"I noticed that," Carth added his thoughts into the conversation. "Even on the Endar Spire, she seemed different in appearance from the rest of the Jedi."

"Well, honestly," Eva rolled her eyes and pointed at a few piles of clothes on the shelves, "Do you really think I would wear a yellow jacket and purple tights out of choice?"

"_Cream robe_," Bastila corrected, "and _lilac leggings_."

"And those leather pieces?!" Eva continued, unheeding, "they are seriously uncomfortable unless you have legs like sticks. They flip everywhere they're not supposed to."

"I was wondering about that," Mission said honestly, having observed the strange clothing all Jedi seemed to wear.

"I get my clothes tailored," Eva said explanatorily, "it guarantees optimum fit and comfort."

Rena returned with her arms full of clothing. "Not to mention that Jedi robes don't come in plus sizes."

"Some people just don't understand that I'm built on a larger scale than most," Eva commented acidly to Bastila.

"I should have thought it quite obvious," Bastila blurted, unable to resist.

"So that's for us?" Carth broke in, eager to avoid bloodshed, literal or figurative.

Eva breathed in and out, closing her eyes before answering. "I assume so. Please sort each set of clothing into a neat pile for each guest, Rena. And keep your comments civil."

"There is no emotion," Rena said tonelessly, before enquiring slyly, "Is vanity an emotion or a vice, Master?"

"Cleaning Brith droppings from the Enclave roof is a task, Rena, in which you may soon acquire experience," the threat rolled coldly from Eva's tongue.

"What are Brith?" Mission asked Carth softly.

"I think it's what those giant flying ray things are called," he answered back.

Mission remembered the size of the bird/things. It boggled her mind to think of what dimensions their waste deposits would be. She didn't blame Rena for holding her tongue from then on, albeit with an extremely sour look on her face.

"Quarter-masters," Carth mused quietly, "or whatever their equivalents are called, I've never met a cheerful one yet."

Canderous grunted in agreement.

They had soon grabbed their bundles and followed Eva yet again through a maddening set of hallways and doors, before she stopped in the middle of one of the hallways.

"Those four cells – ah, rooms – are yours for the meantime. That doesn't mean you can trash them. Yes, I'm looking at you, Canderous. Each has a small private 'fresher. You'll want to use that, and your new clothes. I'm in this one," Eva waved at a door that looked exactly like the others.

Canderous opened his door and peeked in. "There's nothing but a bed and a closet. What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

Eva sighed, and glanced at her chrono. "Lunch will be served in about an hour. How about you clean up, eat, and then we can go out and see some Dantooine wildlife. Shoot Dantooine wildlife. Sound nice?"

Canderous shrugged. "Whatever."

Eva sniggered as he entered his cell – room. "For a moment there, he sounded like Bastila," she grinned at Carth. The soldier's lips twitched involuntarily as he left for his own temporary domicile.

Mission hesitated before her door. "Eva, um, I think I'll stay here for a while. With Z. I've got datapads and junk to work with, and… I just need some time alone, okay?"

"Whatever you want," Eva promised. "You have my comm. code, you can contact me at any time."

As Zaalbar headed into the last door, and Bastila proceeded up the hallway to her usual room, Eva turned and retreated into her own.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: If you're wondering why I'm calling the chapters after words with the suffix '-ation', the answer is: I'm lazy. I don't know – maybe, the next one can be 'aggravation' or 'irritation'. 'Continuation'? Eh, like it matters.**

**I'm kind of mixing the two Dantooine Jedi Enclaves from K1 and K2. Did it not annoy you how different they were? I know it was a different entrance, but still! Not a lot of action here. I guess I'm just kind of making it up as I go along. Maybe in the next chapter the rest get to meet the Jedi Council, perhaps. And I have to explain how they get the Star Maps without Revan's memories/visions. I've got several ideas, I just need to decide.**

**My apologies for the disgusting wait for this. It's no excuse, but my nerves were shot. I've travelled across three states (that's about 1500kms, one way) and bought horses, then dragged said horses behind the car in a trailer for the return trip. I'm not practised in transporting horses, and I had no idea what I was getting into. It is EXHAUSTING. Tip: if you need to transport livestock over a significant distance, cash up and use professional livestock transport. Your nerves will thank you. Ooh, and NEVER transport horses in a trailer with a wooden floor. NEVER EVER. EVER. Let's just say at least one of my new horses is incomparably forgiving. The whole experience took a few years off my life expectancy, I'm positive. **


	22. Exposition

**Chapter Twenty Two:** **Exposition**

_Previously: They arrived at Dantooine. The Jedi pouted but allowed them all to stay in the Enclave, and Eva promised to take Canderous out to kill things._

Eva was wrapping her lips around a succulent bite of an amazing culinary confection from the Jedi mess kitchen when her door slid open to admit a visitor hefting a tray similar to the one hovering over her lap. She lifted an eyebrow, wrinkling half her forehead as she quickly chewed and swallowed.

"Carth, you have a complaint? Allergic to something? What's the problem?"

The soldier paused as if gathering his thoughts. "Well, no, not really. I just thought I'd come over and talk, and eat. I can go again if you like."

"No, wait, don't go," Eva said immediately, scooting over on her bed and nudging her tray over. "Have a seat."

Availing himself of the offer, he glanced over at Eva and caught a whiff of Eva's fare. "On second thought, I might just complain. Why didn't I get any of that?" He pointed at the gastronomic masterpiece.

Grinning sheepishly, Eva explained, "I'm friends with one of the cooks. I used to be sent to the kitchens as a punishment when I was a Padawan, and I learnt that I loved food, both making and eating. Thus began a beautiful friendship," she sighed sentimentally.

"I see," Carth commented, a world of meaning in his two syllables.

"Say anything more and you're off the bed," she threatened, a flush rising on her rounded face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

Pleased with his cooperation, Eva drew a line down the centre of the food with her spork and carefully placed half of it on Carth's tray. Just as solemnly, Carth divided some sort of meat pie on his tray and presented it to Eva. She shrugged and began digging in, not too offended by whatever ingredients made up the pie to leave it untouched.

Carth glanced over her room. Apart from a few small differences, it was identical to the one he had just left. "Is this your temporary room?"

Eva chewed her mouthful and swallowed. "It's my room whenever I'm on Dantooine," she shrugged. "I have another on Coruscant and a few on some other planets. It's a perk for Masters – Knights and Padawans make do with whatever is available."

"It's a bit… sterile."

"Well, you know we Jedi are light on possessions. Besides, it makes it far easier to pick up what you have and leave quickly on another mission. I keep 'my' tech gear in the main droid repair bay – Albresh doesn't touch my stuff, and luckily no one else fits my clothes, so I get to keep them too." Carth had noticed she had changed into an extremely dark green robe over black leggings and a long sleeved, somewhat shapeless black top. "We all have our personal datapads. And I've never been one much for domesticity, so it's probably just as well I don't have any knick-knacks to dust."

"That's one way to look at it," Carth agreed. In truth, he wasn't unfamiliar with the practice. It's not like soldiers carried a houseful of mementoes along with them either. "You didn't take long in the Jedi Chambers."

"Long enough," Eva scoffed. "Honestly, they say so much without saying anythi… wait a second. That's what you came in here for, isn't it? Intelligence?"

Carth nodded shamefacedly. "The brass gave me my orders: stick around for at least a week and see what's going on with the Jedi. I know you're one of them, but come on, give me a break. Nobody's telling me anything."

Frowning, Eva shook her spork at him. "And I thought you liked my company. How disappointing."

Choking for a moment, Carth stammered something before his face cleared. "You're teasing me. That's just… that's just not fair."

"I know," Eva nodded, "I'm truly evil. I should join the Sith, really, but I don't much like their work ethics."

"Oh, is that all?" Carth scoffed, his remaining store of good-will temporarily evaporated. "I thought it might have been the uniforms which turned you off. Honestly, Eva, do me a favour and clue me in here. All we've had so far is hurry up and wait."

"There isn't much more I can add," Eva replied, deactivating her empty hovering food tray and setting it on it's edge by the door before returning to her previous sitting position on her bed. "We've come here, given the Jedi the required information, and now we'll have to wait for a decision. I can give you an educated guess as to where we'll go from here, but a guess would be all it would be."

"How long will we have to wait?" grouched Carth.

"A couple of days," opined Eva. Watching Carth's shoulders slump, she offered, "Like the officers of the Fleet, the Jedi Council has the weight of the entire universe on their shoulders. They want to be sure they make informed decisions, decisions that are the best they can manage. A few days should give us enough time to have a small vacation, something you needed long before this, if I remember the dark circles around your eyes that you had on Taris."

"And if in those few days Malak destroys another planet?" Carth shot back, gripping his food tray and placing it none too gently by Eva's.

"Could we stop him in a couple of days?" Eva questioned, fingering the edge of her blanket. "Taking down Malak isn't going to be possible tomorrow, next week or the week after. We're in the middle of a battle on the losing side. We don't have superior forces, or even comparable forces. The only way we can possibly turn the situation around is by intelligence, pure and simple."

"Intelligence needs to be gathered," Carth retorted, "if not actively sought out. Which we could be doing immediately." He couldn't remain seated and strode up and down the restricted length of the room.

"Where?" asked Eva simply. "For your information, intelligence has been gathered. Previously to our forced landing on Taris, I made contact with various scouts, both Jedi and non-Jedi. The information is now in the hands of the Council."

"What information was that? And why hasn't it been sent forward to the Fleet?"

"I cannot comment on the contents of the reports. The non-Jedi components have been sent to the Fleet, but without the accompanying Jedi reports, the details are incomplete."

"I thought the Jedi were working with us on this one," Carth said bitterly.

"We are. It is unlikely the Fleet would understand the significance of the Jedi reports. You should know, better than most, how we are viewed from non-Force sensitive organisations. Magical hocus pocus, they say, and write-off anything we have to say. We don't garner much respect from the Republic these days."

"And whose fault is that?! Where were you when the Mandalorians raped entire worlds?"

Eva gasped, and fisted her hand against her mouth. Carth paused at the sound, and seemed genuinely taken-aback by her loss of composure.

When she trusted her voice, she spoke in flat tones. "I was at Coruscant, mostly."

"How can you justify staying out of the war? You Jedi staying out of the war?" Carth's voice, though clear, had lost its edge. He honestly wanted to know what she had to say now.

"I don't know that I _can_ justify it. I don't think there was a right way to go about it. Many of my friends left to fight the Mandalorian Wars, and those that didn't fall in battle all turned to the dark side, save one. And the rest of my friends who listened to the Council and stayed back, later fought with the fallen Jedi turned Sith and either died or were turned."

Carth sighed and returned to his seat on the bed. "Yeah, I know. I've lost a lot in the war as well. Hell, you already know that. But I never understood _why _the Jedi were against fighting it in the first place."

She ran a hand through her hair, staring at a small spot on the wood panelled wall. "The seers – foretellers, those with the capability to see the future – had visions of great evil occurring if the Jedi fought in the war. The visions were necessarily cloudy, as such visions are, but enough Jedi had them to make it a very serious issue. Several prophecies were found and applied to the current time. Actually, the Jedi were still debating whether or not to join the war effort when Sq… Malak recruited Jedi and left. When that happened, it turned the Jedi completely against the idea. Malak had rebelled, you see, so he was obviously wrong." Her hands twisted together as she paused, before continuing.

"I don't know what happened to the Jedi who left and fought the war. Many have speculated on it, but we can never really know why unless Malak obligingly informs us, and somehow I doubt he will. But when they fell and came back as Sith, all the scared old men – ah, Jedi, that had been reluctant to join the war – they took it as the vindication of their visions, and the Jedi, never all that forthright with their allies to begin with, became very secretive. Especially as Malak had his assassins systematically stalking us one by one."

"He's targeting the Jedi specifically? Not just the Republic?" Carth enquired, sidetracked.

"He seems to be working on two fronts. One, he wants to rule the galaxy. So he's taking over planets conventionally. But, two, he's taking out the Jedi, because Republic or no, without the Jedi to stop the Sith, the Republic will be plunged into the darkness they crave anyway." She stopped and leaned back, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. "It's ridiculous, really, when you think about it. Where do Dark Jedi come from? Mostly from turned Jedi. They don't much like training their acolytes in the basics. If the Jedi die out, so do the Sith. And, probably vice-versa."

"Have you ever been targeted?" he asked curiously. Bastila's words, 'Master Revan is a survivor' reappeared in his mind.

"A few times. They didn't target me so to speak, as noticed I was in the area and took advantage. Luckily for me, all but one were beginners at the job. I was never able to capture them alive. If they didn't force me to kill them outright, they committed suicide. For just as many talented assassins Malak has, he has twice as many incompetent ones."

"And the one that was good?" Carth asked.

"He was tough, but only left me scarred emotionally," she replied lightly, fighting to get back to her usual placidity. "That wore off too, and all I am left with now is a slight antipathy to bathing or large bodies of water."

Carth looked like he wanted an explanation, but wisely changed the subject. "Are the Dantooine plains dangerous?"

"They can be. Depends if there are kath hounds around, and they're usually no threat except in their rutting season, or if they're starving. As far as I gathered today, they're unusually vicious and need to be culled a bit. Canderous ought to like that, they're quite difficult to put down, the mature males especially." She frowned. "Thanks for reminding me. I need to find my best walking boots and get my favourite lightsaber."

"You have more than one lightsaber?"

"Of course. I hardly ever take my favourite one on missions. I tend to lose them, or they break," she grumbled as she reached under her bunk and dragged a locker out from underneath. She chose a pair of black leather boots from the three pairs inside, and dug a silver cylinder out from a bunch of bundled socks.

"Oh, yeah, I wondered how that gang leader got hold of yours."

"The rat-bastard took it off me when I was unconscious from the landing. You wouldn't know it, but crashing through three levels of city is actually quite dangerous," she quipped.

"You crashed through two, and landed in the third level," Carth corrected her.

"Whatever. I made very big holes in very big structures. I can be pardoned for not gripping my lightsaber in the tight grip of death."

"You didn't tell the Council what happened to it, though, did you?" Carth smirked.

"The Council doesn't need to know _every_ detail, Carth," she smiled back, her equilibrium now fully restored.

A grumpy Mandalorian now made his way into the increasingly crowded room. "There's nothing in my room other than a bed. Ordinarily, that would make this place something special, but you Jedi are against that sort of thing, so I'm going to ask you very calmly what the hell you expect me to do in the time your Council takes getting off their asses?!"

"Have you ever been pitted against slavering hounds of evil?" Eva asked in a thrilling whisper.

Canderous scratched his head. "Well, there was this one time…"

Eva shook her head sadly and interrupted him. "Well, you won't be this time, at any rate. However, the kath hounds can be tricky to take down, when they're in the mood, and especially when they're in packs. Grab what you can carry easily, and we'll have a look around. People can sometimes be remarkably needy when there's a Jedi Enclave around."

Carth headed to his room and grabbed his precious blasters, holstering them safely and strapping a vibroblade to his back for good measure. As he reluctantly took his place beside Canderous, Eva briefly appraised them – each wearing brown pants, brown boots, cream shirts under brown Jedi jackets. "You'll do," she decided, adding to Canderous, "brown just isn't your colour though, Ordo. Makes you look old." Indeed, it made his bleached hair seem positively white. Maybe because it was?

"All the better to fool you with," Canderous smirked, cocking a grey eyebrow.

Briefly knocking on the other three's doors, Eva ascertained their intended purpose for the afternoon. Mission merely wished them luck before turning around pointedly. Bastila wished to centre herself in order to cope with the Council's inquisition on the morrow, and Zaalbar was loath to leave his life-debt, even in such a haven of peace as the Jedi Enclave was supposed to be.

**(&X&)**

The three walked briskly through the last set of doors between them and the Dantooine outdoors. Passing the blankly staring droid which Eva briefly nodded to and called 'Chuck', they all felt some relief from the stifling stillness of the Enclave in the brisk gust of air that rushed by them. They found themselves treading the paved grounds of a chambered courtyard set slightly into the ground and banked by knee high walls. Only Eva noticed the lack of apprentices and Padawans trying to achieve meditation trances under the watchful gazes of their Masters – compared to past years, the courtyard was mournfully empty. Still, a few Jedi who had already discharged their duties were enjoying the sunshine, usually silently, as opposed to the few country peasants around, who conversed with each other, at varying volumes.

"Hey, Nemo, soaking up the rays?" Eva called disrespectfully but cheerfully to an aged Jedi Knight, whose silver hairs were almost completely white and his face a kindly pattern of wrinkles.

"Revan, it is good sometimes to stop and reflect on the beauty of nature, and the force," the man intoned sonorously, a gentle expression diffusing over his face as his attention was brought to Eva's presence, which was drawing closer to him.

"Goldbricking, like I thought," Eva teased, a wide smile on her face. "I'm accompanied by my two friends, Carth Onasi of the Republic Fleet and Canderous Ordo."

"I am sorry, I tend to get carried away," the old man apologised politely to the two men, "I do not believe we have previously met. My name is Nemo."

Carth nodded and uttered a brisk hello, while Canderous merely frowned beneath his eyebrows. Eva sighed and seated herself down on the low wall. "Sources inside tell me the kath hounds are getting a bit rowdy."

Nemo frowned. "The council has told you nothing of the grove?"

Eva looked puzzled. "No, not a thing."

"Then it would not be my place to explain it's significance," Nemo steepled his thin twisted fingers together. "But the kath hounds around the grove seem to be agitated by a power coming from it. There have also been a few situations at outlying farms."

"Have they posted a bounty on them yet?" Eva asked, disgruntled at Nemo's Jedi-like answer. At Nemo's head shake, she scowled. "That's too bad. I guess we're not getting extra credits that way."

"I think you place an undue importance on finances and such flimsy sources of security. Understandable, but regrettable," Nemo sighed.

"I serve the will of the Jedi Council," Eva said virtuously, "Using what credits I earn, I serve the good, and hopefully through that, the people of the Republic."

Nemo smiled unexpectedly. "Good answer. I see my old friend Vrook will not be able to stymie your quick brain in that direction."

"Oh, Uncle N, that was an easy one," Eva laughed, oblivious to the uncomprehending stares of the males behind her. "Anyhow, my Mandalorian friend is looking for a battle, so if your grove doesn't live up to expectations, we'll probably head to the crystal caves. There's plenty of kinrath to exterminate, and they're not easy."

"Mandalorian?" Nemo queried, his gaunt frame stiffening visibly. "Another one? Really, Revan, Dantooine needs no more of them."

"My kinsmen are here?" Canderous asked suddenly. Without waiting for an answer, he growled, "Probably just scum. No Mandalorian worth his salt would bother with the measly takings here."

"Then these are not up to your exacting standards," Nemo answered gravely, "because a group of Mandalorians have been terrorizing the more vulnerable of our farmers for an extended time now. The situation has turned from dire to tragic, now that Jon's daughter was killed by them in a raid."

"He should have been protecting her," Canderous's knee-jerk reaction was, followed by, "but, as I said, they're scum. Taking scraps when they should be taking worlds."

"Um, Canderous?" Eva didn't turn her head to offer this command, "Shut the hell up."

Carth felt his lips curl in a pleased smirk.

"Not everyone in the galaxy is a warrior like you," was Nemo's offer of oil on troubled waters.

"We may run into them on our trek," Eva pondered, not terribly disturbed by the prospect. "If we do, we will know what to do. My gratitude for the talk, Nemo."

"Revan," Nemo stopped her and placed a steady hand on her arm. "Remember, please. As the light side can be embodied in living beings, so can the dark. And even in the darkest heart there is hope for a rebirth. Anyone can be turned back to the light. Anyone."

"Can you be clearer on that?" Eva asked, a slight wheedle in her voice.

Chuckling dryly, Nemo shook his head. "Trust in the Force, my friend."

Eva rolled her eyes at him and turned around, walking off towards the direction of the courtyard exit to the Dantooine plains. Before she could reach it, though, a skinny, unkempt man with reddened eyes glared at her and began talking in an increasingly loud voice.

"Are you Jedi? How long can you people sit by and claim you protect us?" his voice cracked as he sneered, "Protectors? Ha! You sit in your enclave safe from the Mandalorians while we suffer!"

"Who are you?" Eva asked tightly, her face as expressionless as she could make it.

"Those Mandalorian brutes have killed my daughter!" the man cried, unheeding to her question. The various civilians nearby started drawing closer, the better to listen to the dispute.

"You should have protected her better. And you call yourself her father," Canderous growled derisively, his words meant sincerely if not being politically correct.

"And what am I supposed to do against a dozen Mandalorians and Duros?" the man, whom Eva had realised was the Jon the Jedi Nemo had spoken of, questioned bitterly. "Nothing! Nothing. There was nothing I could do."

"Canderous!" "Shut the frack up, you bastard!" Eva and Carth respectively yelled at the smirking Mandalorian.

Eva breathed hard and stepped closer to Jon, finally getting some sort of respect from him, although it was based in intimidation. "What you did or didn't do to save your daughter is immaterial now. She is dead, and there is nothing to change that. What you can change are your manners. If only for your daughter's memory, you shouldn't seek to alienate the very people you are seeking assistance from!"

Jon looked away and took some sobbing breaths before looking back and assuming an apologetic expression. "You… you have a point. But my Ilsa is gone, and if you Jedi don't act, there will be more deaths. How many more must die for you to take action?"

"I don't make decisions for the Council," Eva said coldly.

"Eva, the guy lost his daughter. Cut him some slack," Carth muttered aside to her.

"I will give you all I have. Just, please, annihilate them from the face of this planet!" Jon pleaded, the begging expression warring with the revenge seeking one. "You Jedi have left them alone because they haven't harmed you! But they steal our property, destroy our land, and worse…"

"You are here seeking to petition the Council," Eva said dispassionately. "Your best chance is to continue with that chosen course. In time, a representative of the Council shall meet you."

"When those dogs killed my Ilsa," Jon choked, "their leader, a giant of a man, wielded a lightsaber."

"He was a Jedi?" Eva asked disbelievingly.

"Mandalorians have never been open to your ways," Jon dissented, "they are much too barbaric and violent."

"Practical," interpolated Canderous.

"He must have taken it from some poor Jedi that he had slain before. Can you see now that he is as much a threat to you as to me? You must kill him!" Jon's voice rasped desperately.

"I say we look for these Mandalorians," Carth opined, looking Eva in the eye. "I fought them in the war. They're nothing but vicious pirates. We should stop them if we can."

"Taken into consideration, Onasi," Eva said shortly. She turned to Jon. "I cannot promise you that your request will be accomplished today, or even the next, but it will be done. I give you my word."

Jon chose to be content with that and started his dragging steps away from Eva and her companions. Their audience started dispersing into smaller groups.

"Eva, what…" whatever Carth was about to say, faded away as Eva caught hold of his arm and shook her head, cocking it in a listening position. Carth broadened his hearing too, and heard smatterings of talk, obviously what Eva was paying attention to.

"I don't understand why the Jedi Council are hiding here. Shouldn't they be helping the Republic?"

"The Mandalorians have been raiding farms all over this continent! The Jedi won't do anything, so where does that leave us?"

"I heard there was fighting core-ward towards Coruscant. I wonder if the Republic will survive?"

Eva's voice, lowered and barely audible, broke into his eavesdropping. "Jon was distraught at the loss of his daughter, but he was also playing to the crowd. I won't be bullied into saying things without the sanction of the Council, and I'm not a Guardian, a Jedi primarily for fighting. But however much I disliked the delivery, I recognised the merit of his complaint, and with or without the aid of my fellow Jedi, I will gradually deal with this problem before I leave Dantooine. Now we should leave if we want to complete our journey before nightfall."

"Any other way we can leave the Enclave without being mobbed?" Canderous asked dryly.

Eva considered. "Yes, I think I can arrange that next time."

They started briskly walking through the narrow exit of the courtyard and straight on to the grassy plains, ringed by hills and rises and formed into strange valleys, cut and broken up in areas by large chunks of rock that seemed placed by capricious chance.

"Interesting place to have a battle," Canderous mused, breaking into the silence.

"Mmm," Eva agreed, having softened her previous outraged stance. "When we were kids, we used to have many games and competitions here. We were even allowed to go camping sometimes, when the kath hounds were placid."

"You were here then?" Carth asked.

"Off and on. Dantooine is mostly an Enclave for training the top tier of Force-Sensitives, those who the Masters believe will be great Jedi, rather than average. Still, Coruscant is always the centre of the Jedi administration. I spent a lot of my youth there as well."

"Would Malak have been here?" Canderous queried curiously.

"He spent a lot of time here. He wasn't known as Malak then, though. He was called Alek Squinquargesimus. He came from Quelii." Eva's voice was curiously soft for retelling such dry facts.

"Quelii?" Canderous repeated.

"Yes. The Mandalorians devastated that world, just after he escaped. You can see why he found it too hard to stay back from joining in the Mandalorian War," she replied. "He was always fond of the colour red, but he used to have a thick head of black hair."

"Sounds like you knew him quite well," Carth stated suspiciously.

"I did," Eva affirmed flatly.

"That's something to be proud of," Canderous averred, "to know the man who single-handedly turned the tide of battle against us. I've always been proud that I fought against his armies. He is a great warrior."

"He always was, though too impatient for the Masters' tastes," Eva noted wryly. "However, he was out of his twenties when he became a General, so I suppose time and maturity might have given him the expertise needed to plot battles wisely."

"Evidently, he wasn't wise enough to avoid the Dark Side," Carth scowled.

Eva's face fell. "No. No, he wasn't."

"Enough talk. Where's the hounds?" Canderous asked impatiently.

As if answering his petulant query, a chorus of barking howls sounded from their front and to their left. Soon rusty red shadows began to slink from rock to rock, tensing themselves for the attack.

"Get ready," Eva breathed, wrapping the fingers on her right hand firmly around her lightsaber and activating the switch. "Here they come."

**(&X&)**

It was no good. Bastila simply couldn't centre herself in her room while waves of grief and misery radiated from a few rooms down. What a trial it was to be a Jedi. It wasn't like Bastila could exit to the hallway and bang on the door to get Mission to stop. With a frustrated sigh, she uncrossed her legs and slid off her bed, walking to her door and out. Maybe she couldn't get Mission to cease exuding pain and misery, but perhaps she could lessen the intensity with a little conversation and sympathy.

"May I come in?" Bastila asked a moment after the door to Mission's room parted and allowed her a glimpse of the azure teen. Mission was sprawled over the bed on her stomach, facing directly away from the door.

"If I said no, would you leave?" Mission asked, with a slight hiccup at the end of her speech.

"I hope I would respect your privacy, but it is clear to me that you are deeply affected, and … well, if it would help to talk about it…" Bastila began diffidently.

"It doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, no matter how much I talk about it, nothing's going to change, is it? Taris will still be gone, along with all my friends," Mission still didn't turn around, but kicked her legs up and down fitfully.

"That's not entirely true," Bastila persisted. "You have Zaalbar. He's your friend, isn't he? And Revan, and Carth, and me."

"You're not my friend," Mission shook her head and rolled over, exposing her face to Bastila.

"Why do you say that?" Bastila asked quietly. Her compassion had been roused even further by the tearstains evident on Mission's face. An unbidden memory of her first weeks at the Enclave made her walk into the room and seat herself gingerly on the corner of the bed, offering comfort by her closeness.

"You're so superior, and _Jedi_. You don't care for me. You think I'm a brat and … heck, I don't think you like _anyone_."

Bastila was struck dumb by Mission's honesty. Well, she tried to be well mannered, and considerate. Didn't she? Is this how everyone felt about her? She felt an almost physical pain when she realised that she _did_ feel herself superior to Mission, and mortified that she hadn't had the ability to disguise that from the child. Pride was one of the greatest failings a Jedi could have. Was she really in that much danger? A traitorous thought rose up that if the Jedi Council didn't think so, then why did they keep such close tabs on her?

"I…" Bastila stuttered, before taking a deep breath and starting anew, "I'm sorry you think that. I'm sorry that I was so wrapped up in my role as a Jedi that I didn't notice your feelings until now. I'm sorry you had to tell me to my face to make me aware of my shortcomings."

Mission sighed and brushed a hand over her face. "Yeah. I guess we all have our moments, huh?"

Bastila blinked and thought. "Mission, ah… in the aftermath of our escape I felt terrible. I still do, but then I couldn't seem to stop the thoughts running through my head, telling me that it was my fault that Taris was destroyed – and it was, really. But Revan took the time and talked to me, and even though I didn't say very much, it seemed to help a little to voice my grief. I'm not saying I felt worse than you. I didn't know Taris as well or for as long as you did. But it might help, even just a little, if you talk. And if you want to, I'm here. And willing." It was a large and unaccustomed speech for Bastila, and she felt all the awkwardness attached to the unfamiliarity of it.

A spot-lit iriaz couldn't look more startled than Mission at that moment. "Are you sure?"

Bastila's famous frown flitted momentarily over her features. "I said I was, didn't I?"

Mission relaxed a bit. Bastila hadn't been taken over by body snatchers after all. "It's just strange, you know? It's been there all my life, and now… it's gone, they're all gone. Everywhere I used to hang out, everyone I knew, even everyone I hated. And I hated a lot of people, but I didn't want them to die."

"Malak will be made to pay for all those deaths," Bastila asserted to Mission.

"The Republic hasn't done such a great job so far," Mission said, troubled. "And it's too late for Taris. And what about the other planets Malak suddenly gets the itch to trash?"

"All Sith Lords are toppled eventually," Bastila said firmly, "We have the examples of Exar Kun and Ulic Quel-Droma. Each were tremendously powerful Jedi who fell and became Sith Lords, even allying themselves with the Mandalorians. Each waged war against the Republic and the Jedi – and each were comprehensively stopped. Malak will be no different."

"I guess," Mission said doubtfully. "Anyway, we are around to help things out, so we'll do what we can, huh?"

"The net is tightening around Malak," Bastila avowed, secretly wondering what the real situation really looked like. "And we'll be there to see his fall."

Mission seemed cheered by this invigorating sentiment, which eased both of them into a mutually agreeable conversation. The girls talked of their impressions of their travelling companions; Bastila made Mission gasp with laughter by her disrespectful imitation of Master Revan, and Mission treated Bastila to a few quotes T3 had been known to say in Carth's company, making the usually impassive Padawan laugh out loud. Unexpectedly, the talk did more good for Bastila's well-being than the meditations she had rigorously employed for the last ten years, and Mission's vindictive side was soothed by means of a conversation in which Bastila was treated to a complete and unabridged tale of abduction and deceit, featuring one Twi'lek dancer who bore the name Lena.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Hi! All that stuff about the Mandalorian Wars I made up out of my head. Don't take it as canon! Most of what I write is far from canon. I also know nothing about Jedi accommodation, and based it mostly off the three measly rooms you see in K1 (one with the Twi'lek gambler, one with Ahlan Matale, and the other one that crazy droid lady goes to later). It's a fantasy universe anyhow, so …**

**Eva's antipathy to bathing – I think I got some ideas in some fanfiction or other that Atton Rand, ex-Jedi-assassin, used to torture Jedi to get them to turn, sometimes using water. Jedi can hold their breath for a long time, but not forever. I don't say that Eva necessarily suffered the torture. Perhaps she was only threatened with it, perhaps not. Eva hasn't been sitting on her ass her entire career, and being the same age as Carth, necessarily has as many hang-ups. She wasn't always overweight, but comfort eating can put on the pounds.**

**Goldbricking – a word I discovered first in Mass Effect – during a talk with Ashley Williams. Signifies wasting time by dreaming, as opposed to doing something. I didn't know what it meant at first!**

**Since Revan is older than canon, it makes sense that Malak is too. With lots of experience and the benefit of the best training (which he received beside Revan) it is at least possible to hypothesise that he might have been able to accomplish what a much younger Revan managed to do.**

**Do you think Bastila was too much out of character? Don't expect her to be bunnies and rainbows – she's still going to be the stiff Padawan she's always been. Like many people, she changes her behaviour according to what people are present. I thought she could stretch this far for a little bit – what's your opinion? Hugs to you all! (Unless you don't like hugs, in which case, no hugs)**


	23. Exploration

**Chapter Twenty Three:** **Exploration**

_Previously: Carth and Eva talked for a long time about the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi's reasons for staying out of it. Canderous interrupted and they left the Enclave, with a lot more chatting to an old Jedi friend of Eva's, and were accosted by a grieving father. Miffed, Eva had a small temper tantrum and talked with Canderous about Malak for a while, before engaging in a kath hound hunt. Meanwhile, in the Enclave, Bastila bonded with Mission over Taris' destruction._

A slow smile spread over Canderous' features as he finally lowered his blaster rifle and looked around. Kath hound corpses littered the landscape and the air was filled with the sweet coppery smell of spilled blood. Some of it was his, welling up from the gashes in his arm caused by a savage bite wound, but he disregarded it. It was already closing quickly, thanks to his Mandalorian heritage. He briefly regarded the carcass of the animal responsible; the huge bull-like creature sprawled at his feet, wickedly sharp horns still glinting in the mellow sunlight. Eva hadn't steered him wrong – kath hounds, especially in a group, were enemies to be respected.

He turned around, his smile morphing into a full-blown smirk as he watched Carth and Eva making a cautious descent down the tree they had at last taken refuge in. It had been the last wave of predators that had made them retreat for their survival, and it had been while he watched Carth help Eva up the tree out of the corner of his eye that the bull kath hound had been given the opportunity to latch onto his arm. Once he saw Eva safely clinging to a high branch batting at the snarling hounds with her lightsaber he had ignored them completely, mowing down all threats with lethal bursts from his weapon.

"Steady there," Carth called, having reached the ground and was now looking up at Eva above him. "I don't want you to fall on top of me. I'm too young to die."

"Ha, ha," Eva scowled down at him. "Just for that, I'm going to make sure Canderous falls on top of you some day. With pointy shoes on."

Carth burst out laughing. "Ordo in stilettos? The pain would be almost worth it."

"Careful," Eva grinned maliciously, "the man has a blaster in his hand and is right behind you."

Carth jumped around and saw Canderous halfway across the field smirking callously. _Why should I say anything,_ Canderous thought to himself, _when the she-Jedi gives him far more hell than I'd ever be able to?_

Shaking his finger at Eva as she clambered from branch to branch, Carth began aggrievedly, "Woman, you are heading for a fall. No one can be that nasty and not have karma come around and bite them on the… ah, bite them."

Landing on the ground with a thump, Eva grinned and shook her head. "That's not likely. Karma's a bitch, and we bitches stick together."

"You said it, not me," Carth muttered, grinning in spite of himself.

"Are you two lightweights injured?" Canderous asked casually, moving over towards them with the relaxed body language of a smoker after blowing a cloud.

Eva looked startled. "Well, I've got a few bruises, but they're in places that won't show, and I think I broke a nail when I swarmed up the tree. How about you, Carth?"

The Republic pilot shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing life-threatening. How about you, Mandalorian?"

Eva's eyes flickered to Canderous' bare arm, exhibiting a nasty bite mark. She moved over and warily took hold of his wrist. "Don't be a sissy," she smiled at him nervously, "we'll probably run into more packs. I've never seen the kath hounds even half this bad before."

Shrugging, Canderous nodded once, giving Eva tacit permission to do whatever she liked. As Eva closed her eyes and started breathing rhythmically, Carth experienced an unexpected twinge of dissatisfaction. It made no sense. Why should he care that she healed the Mandalorian? It's not like it wasn't a practical move.

"I would have thought that predators like these would have been one of the Jedi's top priorities to deal with. Considering your pathetic shepherding of the settlers, that is," Canderous rumbled into the silence.

Eva opened her eyes and looked up at him. "They've never been this bad. The numbers we encountered are just unbelievable, and the way they attacked was almost …"

"Co-ordinated. Strategic. Planned," Canderous nodded.

"They're not that intelligent," Eva frowned. "I tried to connect with their minds. It isn't usually hard – in the past, I've been able to tame them and move through the packs like I was one of them, but this time, it was like there was a solid block, that I just couldn't get through. It felt dark, oily…" her voice petered out.

"Does that explain why you turned tail and treed?" Canderous smirked.

"Well, it was either that or use some impressive Jedi powers. It's been a long held rule here on Dantooine that we Jedi avoid the display of our capabilities in areas that we might be observed by the settlers. They can be somewhat ignorant and superstitious."

Carth made a noise of disgruntlement. "In other words, you Jedi don't want to overawe the rustics. Typical."

Eva glared at him. "Say that to me again when you've chatted to a hillbilly while he thrusts the muzzle of his blaster in your face."

Canderous yawned. "Remind me to teach you how to take it off of him and ram him in the balls with it."

Eva coloured, "Um, well, I already know how to do that, but it would have made him complain to the Council, and at the time, I wasn't really supposed to be outside."

"How long ago are we talking?" Carth enquired sceptically.

Eva straightened and set her face impassively. "The subject is closed. We have more important things to do. The Jedi need to know how badly the kath hounds are acting."

Canderous' face fell. "I thought we were going to check out that grove, and shoot more kath hounds. Come on, Jedi, have a heart."

She bit her lips to prevent laughing. "If it means so much to you, Mandalorian, then that's what we'll do."

"Good," Canderous said in satisfaction. "I keep thinking of the room you assigned me." Eva could have sworn he shuddered.

As they walked further through the waving Dantooine grasses, Carth drew close and murmured to her from the side of his mouth, "He's mellow today. Did you get the Jedi cooks to put something in his food?"

Eva chuckled quietly. "I'm pretty sure it's the violence that has soothed him. Did you catch a glimpse of his face during the battle? He lit up like a Coruscanti building."

Carth shook his head. "I really don't understand that."

"Maybe you two can talk about it some day," Eva suggested, repressing a smile at his grimace of distaste.

As they walked around a bend and past more incredibly tall rocks, they came upon a strange scene involving two humans, an orange Twi'lek Jedi, a protocol droid and a very dead body. Eva stopped dead in her tracks and made to turn around and head back, but the Twi'lek Jedi looked up and spotted her, shouting out.

"He wants me to help," Eva said glumly as she changed direction and trudged over. "It seems that this guy has been murdered, and each of the suspects has accused the other." She sighed, ran a hand through her hair and rolled her neck, before turning to her two companions and generously offering, "This may take a while. Why don't you two find yourselves some way of passing the time while I straighten this mess out?"

Canderous accepted for both of them. He was eager to hunt down more kath hounds, and he hadn't forgotten about the Mandalorian raiders supposedly located around here. His blood hummed in his veins in synchronisation with the call to battle his heart was drumming out. He had spent too many days cooped up in a small ship to be forced to bide his time in a tiny room without even a holovision.

A lost puppy look from Carth to Eva, and the Republic pilot reluctantly followed the Mandalorian. Eva reflexively clenched her fingers and dove into the treacherous mire of a murder investigation. Her serpentine brain furnished numerous theories, opinions and darted on every inconsistency that could possibly be noticed in her conversations to the men and the protocol droid, who had the reports from the laboratories and access to municipal databases. It wasn't quick work, though, and at least an hour passed as she interrogated the suspects, pausing only to think and sometimes to intimidate them psychologically, by just standing there and looking blankly at their faces.

By the time Carth and Canderous decided to check up on her, arriving a little the worse for wear, she had decided she had all the facts she needed. As the two warriors staggered over to a nearby tree and sat in the shade, she calmly exposed both suspects' dirty little secrets and demanded that the Jedi, Bolook, take them both in custody, one for murder, and the other for attempted murder. Apparently the dead man was popular only in certain quarters, such as married ladies and Hutts, because both men believed they had more than adequate reason to break the law and try to kill him. Too bad for them that they chose the same day and the same hour to ambush him and put paid to his transgressions.

As the man with the hangdog expression and the one loudly protesting were inexorably led away, Eva made her way under Carth and Canderous' tree and found a patch of shade to slump in. "Men are stupid," Eva sighed as she laid back in the dappled shadows. "What have you two been doing?"

"Well, where should I begin?" Carth asked himself sarcastically, "should I start at the unending packs of starving kath hounds who decided we were perfect for a midday snack? Or how about the two roving bands of Mandalorians and Duros who seemed to get violent at the sight of us?"

Eva squirmed until she could look directly at both of them. "You went through all that? How come you aren't dead?"

Canderous shrugged. "I'm a Mandalorian. And Republic here is surprisingly handy with his toy blasters."

Carth rolled his eyes at Eva, secure in the knowledge that Canderous wouldn't catch it.

"Oh, how… nice," Eva said bemusedly. "Is that some sort of male-bonding exercise that I as a female don't know?"

Carth and Canderous snorted derisively, and then avoided looking at each other. This shifty behaviour only made Eva more suspicious, so she took a closer look at them both. "Carth, is that a blaster burn?"

"Which one?" he said unconcernedly.

"Come here, tough guy, and let me fix you," Eva reached out a hand, too lazy to get up.

"Nothing doing," Carth yawned. "I'm comfortable here."

"Poke him for me, will you, Canderous?"

"Let me reach my knife," Canderous returned.

Wide eyed now, Carth scooted further from Canderous and over to Eva. Unexpectedly, Canderous broke the silence with a deep chuckle. "That did the trick."

"You're an evil, manipulative man, Canderous, and I'm so glad you're with me," Eva said warmly as she took the disgruntled Carth's hand in her own and closed her eyes, breathing more slowly and deeply.

"Do you really need to do that? You know, the deep breaths and shut eyes?" Carth enquired curiously.

Eva opened her eyes a fraction and paused in her 'work'. "It allows me to really concentrate and minimise unpleasant effects."

"How unpleasant?" Now Carth was getting nervous.

"Pain, tingling, mood changes, wrong placement of Force," she mumbled, shutting her eyes again and tightening her hold on his hand.

Carth sat rigidly for the duration of his treatment. When Eva's eyes opened slowly and her breathing returned to normal, he let loose a sigh of relief and checked himself over, feeling and seeing no changes for the worst. With the affirmation that he was indeed no worse off, and much better, he started to get the idea that maybe he was being a bit too credible. He mistrusted the Force so much he would pretty much believe anything negative that one said about it, but he started to realise that this was becoming a weakness in him that Eva and anyone else could exploit. His ruminations were further bolstered by a glance at Eva, catching a furtive grin lingering on her lips.

Having dealt with Carth's minor cuts and contusions, Eva ran an eye over the resilient Mandalorian warrior currently checking his assault rifle's sighting. None of the damage he bore seemed worthy of immediate attention, and having studied Mandalorian culture, Eva knew that he was very likely to have at least a few regenerative implants such as his race preferred. Perhaps her valuation was coloured by her reluctance to approach Canderous for treatment; knowing his aversion to weaknesses, or at least admitting to them. She had felt quite lucky that he hadn't minded her last attempt very much.

Finally having satisfied her concern over her team, Eva allowed her gaze to rise from the occupants of the swiftly disappearing shade to a point above the visible horizon. Instead of the broad blue skies they had previously ignored, oppressive looking grey clouds were slowly but surely advancing over the distant landscape. What with Eva's recent encounter with the dark shadows in the minds of the kath hounds, this spooked her more than it would have otherwise.

"Carth, Canderous, get up. We have to get back to the Enclave. Now."

"What?" Canderous grumbled. "What about the grove?"

"You've had enough excitement for today," Eva said, hardly registering her own words. "There's a storm coming. I don't want to get wet, it's going to be dark soon, and Dantooine storms can last for hours."

As Canderous' face set in sulky immobility, Carth tilted his head to the side as a thought occurred to him. "I saw that Dark Jedi on Taris channel lightning," he reminded Eva, "does that mean that you Jedi attract it? Like, you're more likely to be struck in a thunderstorm?"

Eva halted, thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know," she frowned, and then hurried on again. "I don't want to find out, either."

For a person with a not inconsiderable body mass, Eva herded her two adult companions back to the Enclave in excellent time, though not quite quick enough to prevent them from being drenched by rain. Carth didn't mind, though. It gave him the experience of seeing two tiny Jedi charges playing joyfully in shallow puddles in the courtyard before an adult Jedi came and persuaded them to come inside, the littlest one childishly asking to be picked up, before the Jedi indulgently obeyed. For some reason, this calmed Carth. It made the chasm between the ordinary being and the Jedi less daunting, and even made him speculate on the similarities, rather than the differences.

Eva paced on through the Enclave doors, refusing to slacken speed despite the squelching, squeaking sounds her boots were making on the mosaic floors. Turning her head to the side as she hurried along, she asked curtly, "Do you want me to take you to your rooms or can you make it from here? I need to brief the Council."

"Will the Jedi object if we tagged along with you? As witnesses, if you like?" Carth requested politely, determined to be as much in the thick of things as he could, even if it meant standing around being wet.

"I don't think it matters much either way," Eva shrugged unconcernedly after a moment of thought. "You can meet Vrook, anyhow, and see if he's as much of a miserable bastard as I said."

"Do you talk about him like this when he's there, or only behind his back?" Carth asked.

"Believe me, everything I say in this Enclave gets back to him eventually," Eva returned, with a rude sound that was something like a snort.

All conversation dropped off from that point, as they stepped around fountains and ornamental garden settings set under openings in the roof that were currently dripping and making a few puddles on the floor, before they drained into built in outlets that led into underground conduits for stormwater, used for cooling the Enclave on hot days. Although Carth wasn't familiar with all the provisions the Jedi took in mind when building the Enclave, it was nevertheless clear to him that it was built with the idea of working with nature, rather than against it.

When they passed through the double doors to the Council Chambers, they were greeted by the sight of the residing Council, Dorak, Vandar, Zhar and Vrook standing in a semi-circle, exactly the same as Eva had left them earlier. Vandar lifted the gaze of his squinty green eyes up to Eva's face and quietly registered the stormy look of unease she wore. He recognised that her discomfort was not just due to her wet dishevelment.

"Revan," Vrook greeted dryly, "what exactly has given us the pleasure of your unsolicited presence?"

"Something is seriously freaky out there," Eva blurted out. Blushing, she amended, "the Kath hounds are attacking in sentient like patterns. There's something influencing them. I sensed it when I tried to touch their minds."

Zhar stared at her sharply. "Master Revan, please start at the beginning. I am afraid that you are just confusing us."

Canderous chuckled as he shifted position. The Jedi were really as stupid as he had always thought.

Eva methodically breathed in and out before embarking on her tale. "To make a long story short, I took Carth and Canderous out into the plains today. We expected some resistance, and I had already heard that the kath hounds were aggressive and that there were packs of raiding Mandalorians. We were barely out when we were attacked by a group of hounds in varying ages. But their attack was like nothing I had experienced before. It was like an invading army, employing tactics and adjusting their reactions to ours. If I had been by myself, I don't know whether I would have survived."

Dorak looked interested at this. "That is fascinating. Naturally, we have several documents relating to in depth studies as to the hounds' intelligence and adaptability, but nothing I have read has indicated that they could be capable of such behaviour."

"I don't believe they are capable," Eva said bluntly. "We can hypothesize all we like about what might have happened, but I really doubt the Mandalorians have been giving tips to the Kath hounds to cause a little more mischief. As I said before, in the middle of the battle I tried to touch their minds, use a Beast Trick. But I was blocked."

Vandar chose to speak this time. "That is surprising. You are one of our most gifted Masters in manipulating minds with the Force." Just the right thing he could say to make two Force-wary men uneasy. "Kath hounds should not have the ability to prevent you from accessing their minds."

"Ordinarily, they couldn't," Eva shrugged, unabashedly confident. "But the block they had in their minds, I don't think they projected it themselves. It was sophisticated, impenetrable." She hesitated before adding, "dark."

The Masters looked at each other, communicating silently. Once again, it was Vandar who spoke. "Dark? Do you suspect some one strong in the Dark Side influencing the hounds? How, and for what purpose?"

Eva paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't know. It would have to be a Sith Master, and, quite frankly, I don't see that happening. If a Sith Master came to Dantooine, and could manipulate wildlife so effectively, he'd not bother with homesteaders but organise an invading force and try to wipe out the Enclave. But Dantooine is strong in the Light Side, and they'd be very uncomfortable, just like if we took a day trip to Ziost."

None of the Jedi Masters appreciated the reference to a Sith homeworld.

Eva continued, "Perhaps we haven't noticed this recently, but I've just realised that things have been getting more troublesome since about a year before the Sith Wars. We used to have very little trouble at all, but now we have invading hounds, Mandalorians, murders and feuding families. It's happened gradually, but things have gradually been getting worse."

"Can it not be explained by the very natural feeling of unease and distraction of major events happening in the universe?" Zhar questioned.

"The feeling I had on the plains cannot be explained away," Eva shuddered. "There is something out there, and it is not benevolent."

The Masters again remained silent, but their expressions and the direction of their glances indicated private communication between them.

"We recognise this calls for immediate action," Zhar said finally. "We do not doubt you, but we need to investigate this further before we commit to any fixed course of action. We will attend to this in the morning. You may be at peace."

If the expression on Eva's face was any indication of her feelings, she was anything but at peace. Nevertheless, she replied, "I am relieved. May the Force be with you."

As they exited out of the Council Chambers, Carth asked curiously, "Do you really think you achieved anything?"

Eva looked at him, startled, before frowning at him and pointedly asked, "Do you respect your superior officers, and military protocol?"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Carth said cautiously, "but don't you find their methods somewhat strange?"

"You join their club, you follow their rules," Eva said flippantly, seeking to end the conversation. She moved as fast as she could to the corridor their rooms opened onto, to avoid further discussion. She dressed as quickly as she could and left her room for the Jedi cafeteria, whose location was distant enough that she believed she could have a respite from certain anti-Jedi men. She was not in the mood to entertain doubts about her lifestyle.

Taking a hover-tray, she browsed the selection of food currently available, taking mostly morsels laden with carbohydrates and animal fats. It had been quite some time since she had considered food for any other quality than taste, and right now she felt too wrung out to care whether or not her robes would fit in the morning. She always had them a few centimetres too large, anyway.

"Wow," Eva heard a youthful voice exclaim from behind her. "You must be starving to pile all that on. Or do you want a heart attack? I heard that it's a very common way for humans to go."

"Mission?" Eva finally managed to turn around and look at the young Twi'lek face to face. "Hi. Are you lost? How did you get here?"

"Bastila showed me," Mission said nonchalantly. "She talked to me for a while, and showed me around the Enclave. It's a great place for you Jedi, but I don't know that I could live here. I'd go mad from the silence, probably."

Trying not to fall over from shock at hearing about Bastila's unusually hospitable behaviour, Eva replied bemusedly, "Yes, well, for many Jedi here this is just somewhere to sit in between missions. Silence can be welcome after some of the things we deal with."

"I don't know about that," Mission disagreed quietly. "The silence just tends to make me think more."

"We Jedi are addicted to that activity," Eva said quickly, loath to visit that particular topic when she was eating. "Some say it's all we're good at. It's a big part of our training. And you have to have lots of time to figure out just what the Jedi Code means."

"That thing that Bastila is always going on about?" Mission asked dryly, "about emotion and passion?"

Smiling, Eva shook her head. "Not quite." As Eva found a seat and settled herself in, she recited with the ease of long-held familiarity:

"_There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is harmony. There is no death; there is the Force._"

Mission frowned. "I don't get it. Just because you say something isn't, doesn't make it so. There is death, there is all that other stuff too. What good is it?"

Eva shrugged and took a bite, savouring the flavour for a moment before swallowing and answering. "Each Jedi has their own opinions about the Code and what it means. For myself, I believe it is describing the ideal state of mind for a Jedi – without a storm of emotion clouding one's perceptions, without ignorance colouring one's view, without passion pulling on one's heartstrings, without mental chaos causing difficulties in making decisions, and with the courage to take one's stand against death itself."

"So when Bastila starts quoting it, she is reminding herself to be a Jedi?" Mission queried. "Shouldn't her feelings be, I don't know, guided by principle instead of by rule?"

Eva halted in mid-chew. Eyes widening, she started to swallow and coughed a little, grimacing. "That… that is a remarkably mature viewpoint, Mission."

Mission shrugged. "You grow up fast on the streets. When you live in a place like the Lower City, you learn that people don't tend to follow laws and rules, but mostly what they believe in. The Beks weren't exactly legal, but they had honour. It was what they believed in. I stole, but not from people who weren't greedy."

Eva sighed. "Those of us who are teachers cannot always ensure that our precepts sink into our pupils' hearts. In just the last forty years, thousands of Jedi have abandoned the Order and become Sith. Perhaps we overcompensate by trying to drill morals into our pupils' brains, and hope it makes it the rest of the way. We all fear the prospective end of our way."

"Well, then, I just hope that the Jedi's fears don't become a self-fulfilling prophecy," Mission stated, her expression sombre, "because no ordinary person can kick someone like Malak out of action."

Thanks to Mission's admittedly wise but depressing council, Eva was swiftly losing her appetite. Staring at the rest of her food piled on the tray, she was debating whether or not to just abandon it when she heard a voice call her name.

"Revan? Is that you?

Despite her ragged self-control, she nevertheless felt impelled to return the greeting.

"Quatra? How are you? I haven't seen you since that unfortunate incident with the food poisoning," Eva greeted, smiling and laying claim to a seat directly opposite from Quatra.

Quatra paled a moment in remembrance. "Please, don't remind me. I'll never look at mushrooms the same way again. But enough of that, how are you? I heard about that unfortunate affair of Taris. I am so pleased you managed to survive."

Mission rolled her eyes. Eva smiled tightly. "So am I. I don't know how I'll ever become fully reconciled with what happened with Taris, and I disliked that planet. By the way, how is Juhani dealing with the loss? After all, it was her home world, however nightmarish."

Mission's hearing sharpened – there was someone from Taris here? Maybe she knew her.

Quatra remained serene at the mention of her Cathar Padawan. "I don't know. I assume she hasn't heard of it yet."

Eva frowned. "That… that seems a bit irresponsible, Quatra. I think you should tell her yourself as soon as possible; it'll be easier coming from you. Juhani always seemed to have a tendency to volatility, and needed to be handled sensitively."

"Who's Juhani?" Mission asked baldly.

Quatra started in seeming fright. "Oh, hello. I didn't see you there. I'm Master Quatra."

"Right," Mission drawled slowly. "I'm Mission Vao. From Taris." She was feeling less offended – Quatra seemed a bit … not all there. She was starting to wonder how the admittedly attractive Master got her rank.

"How terrible for you," Quatra noted calmly.

Eva felt obliged to answer Mission's previous question. "Juhani is a Cathar who was found on Taris eight or so years ago by a friend of mine. She had potential as a Jedi, so he sent her here, to me. Her parents had died. After she was here for a few years, she was assigned to be my first Padawan, but our personalities didn't really click. Like most Cathar, she is passionate and quick of temper, and under my handling she became resentful. When it was apparent the arrangement wouldn't work, I petitioned the Council and she was given to Master Quatra. Some time later, Bastila's Master was killed, and she came to me."

"And Juhani's been going so well," Quatra said contentedly. "I'm certain she'll be ready for her trials soon."

"That is good news," Eva smiled genuinely. "Is she here? I wouldn't mind talking to her, for old times' sake."

"No, she isn't. She has a lesson she needs to learn first," Quatra said.

"Oh?" Eva questioned.

"She needs to confront the Dark Side," Quatra said simply, before elaborating further. "She was internalising everything, and not displaying the true serenity a Jedi must possess. I broke her restraint and made her attack me, and pretended she killed me, to force the issue to her attention."

"Ouch," Eva said, wincing, "that was harsh."

"She needed it," Quatra assured her.

"Well, I suppose it was a bit of a fright for her, but at least she knows she didn't really kill you now. I bet she's doing some heavy thinking now, huh?" Eva asked, hopeful.

"No," Quatra admitted, "Well, yes, I imagine she is doing some thinking, but she doesn't know the true state of my health yet. You see, she had built her stress up so much that when I forced her to confront it, she couldn't stand it and she ran off to the plains. It's been a few days, but I am certain she'll come back soon, with a whole new outlook."

"Quatra," Eva broke in, her voice deadly serious, "the plains are riddled with more than usually vicious kath hounds. And if she was as emotionally vulnerable as you say, then she was in deadly peril of falling to the Dark Side. With only her own thinking to guide her, she could either be dead or lost to us."

"Juhani knows better than that," Quatra said stubbornly. "She will realise the issues that propelled the situation and she will come back and resolve them."

"Or she will be so eaten up with despair that she allows herself to fall completely, believing she has no hope at redemption," Eva said angrily.

"I know you care, Eva, but you haven't been Juhani's Master for a long time, and you weren't particularly good at it then," Quatra pointed out righteously. "You need not worry. Juhani will come back, and then she can take her trials. I'm going to Coruscant in the morning. My skills as a teacher are needed by others."

"I wish you a safe journey," Eva said stiffly, realising all her protests were for naught. "May the Force be with you."

"And with you," Quatra returned, smiling again.

Mission stared at Quatra's retreating back. "Not to insult your Order or anything, Eva, but that one is a few galaxies short of a star chart."

"I wish I could disagree with you," Eva said pensively.

"Can you do anything for this Juhani?"

"I can try," Eva said helplessly, "but Quatra's right, in a way. I was never good with Juhani, and she never liked me much. And when it comes down to it, the fate of the galaxy means more than the fate of just one Jedi."

"I think you ought to help her," Mission said stubbornly. "And if you want to save the galaxy, you can't do that with a battle or a war. You have to do it one person at a time. Nobody's expendable. Remember that, Eva."

Mission got up from the table abruptly and left the cafeteria, leaving Eva staring at the doorway. Shrugging, she sighed and picked up some food. She couldn't do anything about it tonight – she'd worry about it tomorrow.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: I'm taking major liberties with the Dantooine plains. Just forget everything you remember about the game, 'kay? It'll make more sense then.**

**I'm not sure if Juhani was a Padawan or a Knight, but I'd say the first. So if I'm wrong, you can tell me.**

**I'm probably making Canderous OC, but I'm not worrying about it right now. In a rare mood of complacency, I'm fairly pleased with my work, apart from the time it took to produce it. Anyhow, let me know how it strikes you. **


	24. Interruption

**Chapter Twenty Four:** **Interruption**

_Previously: Canderous got bloody, Carth got teased. Eva got the shivers from the Dark Side. Several packs of kath hounds and two bands of Mandalorians and Duros were dispatched, Eva solved a murder mystery, and acquainted the Council with her forebodings. Feeling depressed with the situation, Eva went on a food binge, only to have a depressing talk with Mission and an alarming discussion with Master Quatra about her former Padawan's fate._

Eva yawned sleepily and tugged the blankets up against her chin as she reclined on her bunk in the darkness. There was something wrong, but she was too sleepy to discern what it was, and also too sleepy to care. She snuggled further into the warm embrace of the bedclothes, fighting stubbornly to return to the gentle peace of slumber. There it was again! Her irritation plunged her into almost full wakefulness.

The annoyance turned out to be someone knocking insistently on the outside of her door. Almost cracking her jaws with a mammoth yawn-fest, Eva tripped a lengthy outer robe she had previously pushed to the floor and picked it up, blindly thrusting her arms through whatever holes she could find and digging at the folds hanging at her sides till she found the material tie to fasten around her waist. The pounding continued as she stumbled to the door, clumsily tapping the door mechanism with her fingers.

"What is it?" she grumbled, slurring her words. She peered through sleep blurred eyes, scowling at the timid Jedi apprentice who dared to disturb her slumber by knocking on her door in the middle of the night.

"I beg your pardon, Master Jedi, but I thought it best to alert you," the young Twi'lek lad apologised, before becoming startled by two of the doors directly behind him sliding open, revealing figures bathed in light from inside the rooms. Bastila, in a serviceable but almost diaphanous long white nightgown, in one doorway, and Carth, admirably mussed looking in a short sleeved shirt and shorts, black and orange.

Eva was far too tired to appreciate either sight. "You were saying, Apprentice?!"

Flinching and averting his eyes from Bastila's assets, the apprentice continued. "Jedi Security noted alarms set off in the hangar where the _Ebon Hawk_ is currently docked. All signs point to an intruder on board the ship."

"What?" exclaimed Carth.

Eva blew hair out of her face and glowered at the hapless lad. "Then Jedi Security should deal with it! Have they apprehended the thief yet?"

"Ah, no," admitted the apprentice. "It seems the thief is locked inside the ship, and we don't have the locking codes."

"I do," announced Carth, retreating into his room to don jeans and his holstered blasters. Eva fancied she could hear him say, "Touch my ship, will they?!"

"Will you be needing me, Master?" Bastila asked, delicately yawning behind her hand.

"No," Eva answered after a moment of consideration. "You'll need to be at your best for the Council today. It's only a few hours to dawn, so you'd best go back and rest immediately."

A flash of gratitude lit her eyes, but Bastila said nothing more as she retreated back into her room and extinguished her light.

Eva ducked back inside her room for a moment to find some slip-on shoes to protect her feet against the cold stone floor, and collecting her lightsaber which she always hung on a hook beside the door, before joining Carth outside.

"I could see to this by myself," Carth offered, noting Eva's red-rimmed eyes.

"Uh-uh," disagreed Eva grimly, "I'm awake now, and spoiling for a fight. This so-and-so will rue the day he sought to disturb my sleep!"

"O-kay," muttered Carth, eyeing her warily.

As ragged as she felt, Eva heard the chariness in his reply and breathed deeply to calm herself, before taking a moment to reassure him and explain. "I'm not going to go crazy-Jedi on you. It's just that when I'm sleep deprived, I act on my basic instincts. Right now, I'm feeling very irritated."

"Yeah, I got that," agreed Carth.

"You can understand that, can't you?" Eva asked, frustrated. "You're not exactly a morning person yourself. You should be like a raging wraid right now."

"I'm not that bad," Carth protested. "I woke up during the night. I thought I heard something, but I guess I was mistaken, and I just couldn't get back to sleep. At least this way I won't have to stare at the ceiling in the dark."

"Yeah, because apprehending sneak thieves is _so_ much fun," grouched Eva.

"Just don't poke any holes in the _Hawk_ with your 'saber," Carth sighed.

Carth followed her lead as she made the trek from their rooms to a side access door to the _Ebon Hawk_'s hangar. As they passed through, Carth's eyes were drawn to the figures of two impassive brown-clad Jedi standing to the side of the _Hawk_'s closed ramp.

"The occupant of the ship has not escaped, nor have they attempted to start the ship," the apparent leader, whom Carth immediately dubbed 'Agent Brown' in his head, informed them emotionlessly.

The other, who Carth mentally referred to as 'Agent Smith', added, "He can only have been here fifteen minutes. We would not have asked for your help if we could have overridden the lock." He allowed himself a slightly emotional glance at the device.

"Is Jones not on the roster tonight?" Eva questioned, informing Carth in an aside; "Jones is pretty good with electronics."

"No, he was transferred to Coruscant three days ago," 'Agent Brown' face creased in the slightest suggestion of a scowl. "Apparently, there is a Jedi Master over there that is so advanced in age, he habitually locks himself in places and forgets how to get out."

Eva shrugged as her fingers tapped on the small keypad of the lock. "It could be worse. If you really need to, you can call on Albresh."

'Agent Brown's face was suffused with colour. "Not if I can help it." He added self-righteously, "I'm sure the droid technician has enough chores to do without my adding to it."

Eva rolled her eyes. "One day you're going to have to get over that, Bren. Plenty of people don't understand how serious phobias are."

Carth's questions on what they meant were never spoken as the _Ebon Hawk_ hospitably lowered her ramp on Eva's command. The lady Jedi with her two gentleman Jedi crept noiselessly up the inclined panel, their movements smooth and silent. Carth followed, easing his blasters out of their holsters and thumbing their safety switches in readiness.

Pausing in the airlock, Eva closed her eyes and extended her senses, augmenting them with the Force. Stretching the tendrils of that mysterious power outward and curving them around walls and doors, she finally sensed the intruder, a large being currently in the garage, a bare three steps away. Her breathing halted, her nerves tightened and quivered. She mentally counted down to zero and lurched into action, propelling herself forward while unleashing the beam of her lightsaber with its trademark snap-hiss, bringing its deadly shaft around to point unerringly at her quarry's vulnerable neck.

"Be careful where you point that thing," Canderous grumbled, otherwise unfazed by the threat of quick and therefore reasonably painless death hovering centimetres from his jugular.

A surge of anger swept through Eva as she deactivated her 'saber and heard her companions doing the same. "What the hell, Canderous!?"

"Nice legs, Jedi," Canderous smirked, ignoring her and looking pointedly at the small expanse of bare leg exposed between the front panels of her robe.

Eva's face darkened in anger, and one of the Jedi started forward, mouth opening. But it was Carth who spoke, stepping forward and glaring at Canderous.

"Show respect for her, Mandalorian. She has earned it."

Canderous stared coldly into Carth's eyes for a long moment. "It was a compliment."

"One I can do without," Eva interrupted, nevertheless making sure her robe was fastened more securely. "Now, before we start arguing again, what are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep in that crypt," Canderous shrugged, as Carth stepped back casually to holster his blasters and fold his arms across his chest. "I'm going to be staying on the _Hawk_," Canderous stated flatly. "I won't take off in the ship, though it's mine by rights, and I'll wait for your little mission, if you can get on to it without too much time passing by."

"It's against Jedi regulations to allow passengers to live on a ship at dock," Bren said adamantly.

"Tough," shrugged Canderous. "I'm staying."

Eva lifted a hand and looked into Bren's face. "Peace, Knight Bren. If Canderous feels more comfortable on the _Hawk_, then we will do what we must to accommodate him."

Bren looked like he would frown before settling his face into its usual impassive mask.

"I thank you for your assistance this morning, Knight Bren, and you, too," she nodded at the other Jedi, "and I do believe that Commander Onasi and I can control the situation from here. Why don't you return to your posts until your shift is over?"

Bowing, the Jedi left Eva, Carth and Canderous alone.

Sighing, Eva walked over to the swoop bike and lowered herself to sit upon one of its engines. "For the sake of my sanity, couldn't you have at least avoided the alarms? I could have dealt with this so much better in the daylight," Eva muttered, kneading her forehead with her fingers.

"I did, at first," Canderous informed them. "But when I came on board the motorized trash can kept bugging me about needing your permission to be here. The thing even barred me from entering the cockpit and security rooms, not that I wanted to," he said, snorting. "It's been checking up on me every five minutes." A steadily approaching whirring indicated T3-M4's nearing presence. "Right on time, damn that thing," Canderous grumbled.

The astromech droid trundled across the threshold, pausing momentarily at the sight of Eva resting on the swoop bike, before moving over towards her and addressing her with a cacophony of whistles and beeps.

"He did _what_?" Eva scowled at Canderous. She informed Carth grimly, "When Canderous got fed up with T3, he went outside and deliberately fouled a few of the alarms, and went back in, locking the ramp behind him so we'd have to come and tell T3 to stop."

"I'm sorry," Carth said sincerely.

"For what?" Eva grouched, "you didn't do anything." She glared at Canderous. "My, if there ever was a temptation to fall to the Dark Side…"

"Just because I got you out of bed a few hours early?" Canderous scoffed, resuming work on a weapon.

"No, because I am forcing myself to resist shoving you headfirst into the workbench!" Eva snapped.

"Go ahead, if you want," Canderous offered sardonically. "I doubt you'll be able to, though."

"You can't dodge the Force, Ordo," Eva replied disdainfully, slipping off the swoop engine and beckoning to Carth. "If you want to get out of the Enclave today, Mandalorian, I suggest you follow us and get ready. If I'm up, I might as well be doing something. We can pick up rations from the cafeteria."

Of course, Canderous followed her immediately. The offer of a day of fighting was not one he would give up, not even on his deathbed, if he ever made it there.

A few side trips, to get rations, get better equipped and to notify someone where they were going, and Eva was once again saluting the impassive protocol droid that she called Chuck. The enclave courtyard was drenched in moonlight and moisture, the first from the clear night skies, the second from the recent storm. As a contrast to their experience yesterday, the paved way was completely deserted, a natural enough occurrence for that time. Eva passed out night visors to Carth and Canderous, as well as settling one over her messy blonde head. The visors didn't really make night look like day, but they almost certainly could see as far with them as they could in daylight; the visors also came equipped with audio enhancers; so no Kath hound or other danger could possibly sneak up on them unawares.

Eva explained to them as they moved along that she wanted to keep an eye out for a lost Padawan. Naturally, Carth requested an explanation, and Eva felt compelled to give it to him. He listened in thunderstruck silence as she listed Quatra's teaching methods, and what they could expect from a trained Force Adept who had lost all hope for her future.

"Wipe her out," Canderous advised bluntly. "She's fallen once, she'll do it again. As far as the Jedi are concerned, she'll be a weak link."

"But she was forced into this," Carth burst out angrily, "her Master should never have been allowed to teach! Or is this some established Jedi training technique that all Masters use?" he accused Eva, eyes blazing behind his visor.

"Of course not!" Eva replied heatedly. "Most Masters are given free reign to teach their students, as each student is unique. They all require a unique approach, but sometimes things don't work out for the best. Juhani did seem to be better with Quatra than me, so I assumed I could trust her with her training."

"Well, you assumed wrong," Carth stated, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Perhaps the Republic needs to take some sort of action with you Jedi, and regulate you properly."

Furious, Eva got close into his personal space and nearly spat in his face, "Are your Republic soldiers all so perfect then? Have none of them ever committed murder, theft, treason?"

Carth's lips thinned down to an almost invisible line. He seemed to stop breathing and then he said in a carefully level tone, "You know they have."

"Then you admit that your Republic is not perfect?" Eva said unevenly, unsure of what happened, "So why can't you accept that other organisations aren't perfect?"

Eva waited in vain for an answer. Tiring of the silence, she asked Canderous brightly, "So, what about you? Got any stories about traitorous Mandalorians?"

Canderous grunted. After a moment, he answered, "Yes, of course. You always have a percentage of rabble in every army. The difference is that most of them were shot by the Mandalorians they tried to betray."

"Harsh," Eva noted, before remarking pensively, "It would be nice if we could find the right balance of discipline and mercy."

Unexpectedly, Carth snorted in derision. "There are some who deserve no mercy. They should be shot like dogs."

Canderous barked out a laugh. "Are you coming around to my view, Republic?"

Eva peered at Carth. "You're speaking with someone in mind."

"We'd better pay attention to our surroundings," Carth muttered at her, "the kath hounds may try to take advantage of the darkness."

In other words, this was not something Carth would discuss right now. Eva resolved to find out what Carth meant when Canderous was no longer in earshot.

Apart from the occasional barks of kath hounds saluting a luminescent moon, and predatory night birds contacting each other with their eerie echoless calls, the landscape was still and quiet. Held in between night and day, the plains seemed on edge and waiting for something to suddenly happen. Eva was sleep deprived and sulky, Carth was quiet and moody, and Canderous was himself. None of their moods improved overmuch as they travelled speedily across in the interval.

Eva had directed them to a field which was sided by a rising cliff, punctured by a cave opening that was quite well-known in Jedi circles for containing lightsaber grade crystals deep within. It was something of a trial to get to them as hive kinrath spiders also called the cavern home. While Eva didn't ascribe to any form of arachnophobia, such a fear could be considered natural when faced with the gargantuan spiders and their fearsome set of fangs.

Carth reached the cave opening and gingerly snagged a strand of kinrath silk on the tip of one of his blaster pistols, bringing it into light and clearly showing it extending from both sides of the opening. "No one's passed through here for about a day or so," he offered quietly.

"We'll check in there just to make sure," Eva said brusquely, knowing no one in their right mind – or alive, at any rate – would stay in the danger-ridden caves for such a time period. She had to know Juhani's fate one way or the other, even if it was that Juhani had perished.

Canderous hefted his heavy assault weapon again and allowed a miniscule smirk to twitch at his lips. The scent of battle was in his nostrils – or was it merely the sour, musky smell common to kinrath domiciles?

The trio were beset with the savage hip-high arachnids the moment Carth broke the kinrath thread over the cave mouth. Eva's saber protected her somewhat better than the blasters the men favoured, but she suffered a gashed cheek from a flailing pincer before her left hand fell to her belt and grasped her second lightsaber, the orange beam darting out with a kinrath like hiss and lopping off kinrath legs as Eva twirled it in synchronisation with her right blade. She was too busy to note that Canderous had sought a vantage point and was mowing down kinrath from a distance, but she vaguely understood that Carth had switched to a melee weapon and was protecting her back as she, the better swordsman, cut swathes in the advancing troop of spiders.

When the dust finally settled in the cavern, both Eva and Carth were panting with exertion and Canderous somewhat obscured by a pile of mostly dead carcasses. Wrinkling his nose, Carth strove to ignore the sharp scent of the kinrath secretion glands that the violent activities had ripped open to the air. Eva coughed as Canderous unconcernedly trod over the pile of kinrath, his boots scrunching their carapaces.

"Not bad fighters, for bugs," Canderous considered the twitching tentacles of a rapidly expiring insect.

"They're always pretty savage, but I guess these guys must have a nursery going on, to be so protective," Eva gasped, wondering idly if her lightsaber could burn the smell out of her nose.

"Protecting their young, huh? I guess you can't hold a grudge with them for that," Carth shrugged, mercifully lopping the head off the fatally wounded kinrath.

"The crystals are this way," Eva gestured into the depths of the cave, having regained her breath. "Damn! I really don't remember it smelling this bad before."

"Sissy," Canderous growled from behind her.

"Masochist," Eva shot back.

"What?" jeered the Mandalorian.

"You heard me, warmonger," Eva growled, darting a lit lightsaber into a dark corner, grimly searching for possible areas that could hide the body of a lost Padawan.

Canderous would have replied, but he needed all his senses to avoid braining himself on low hanging obstacles dangling from the cave's ceiling. While Eva seemed to have an acute awareness of the placement of everything immediately around her, Carth and Canderous had to rely on the old-fashioned alternatives of sight and feel. In the darkness and with amputated kinrath parts around them, their accuracy could not be relied upon. Perhaps, though, each man discovered that their grievances went out of mind when they found themselves in a good-sized cavern, with vaulted ceilings, rock pillars, greenish kinrath eggs and a tranquil pool lapping to the side. Oh, and the phosphorescent gardens of multicoloured crystal that adorned the pillars and walls were quite pretty, too.

"Wow," Carth said articulately.

"Not bad," Canderous added, a note of genuine appreciation in his voice.

"These are crystals strong in the Force," Eva instructed, gently touching a pale blue spiral with the tip of her index finger. "Trimmed, these can augment a Force user's ability, or even the effectiveness of a lightsaber."

"I don't see any red crystals," Canderous commented.

"Most Sith make them artificially. The process leaves something to be desired with crystals of that type. They don't seem to be as strong as crystals formed naturally. " Eva shrugged.

"Should we leave the kinrath eggs as they are?" Carth asked uneasily. "I mean, could they survive without attendant kinrath, or will they starve to death?"

"Nah, leave them. If they run out of food already stored here, they'll turn cannibal. Bloody tough things," Eva reassured him.

"All these feelings for a bug," Canderous scoffed, booting an egg across the room. It smashed against the wall and showered the immediate area with green plasma.

"Canderous!?!" squealed Eva, jumping back from the crash site and scowling.

"Was that fun, Mandalorian?" Carth enquired sourly. "Hey, why don't you find a kath puppy and drown it? I'm sure that would make your day."

"There's something in that muck," Canderous announced, ignoring the other two. To their disgust, he bent and thrust a hand into the ichor, withdrawing coated fingers clenched around a small unidentifiable object. He rubbed it in a pocket of dust on the ground, and wiped off the resulting mud. Holding the object up, he squinted and informed them, "It's another rock. Looks like it's a red one."

Her disgust rerouted, Eva approached him curiously and focussed on the sample, lighting it from behind with her saber. "Ooh, pretty."

Carth turned his head and pursed his lips to prevent sudden laughter. "You know, we're trying to find your lost Padawan, Eva, not open a jewellery store."

Eva frowned but nodded. Canderous pocketed his newly found treasure and followed her back out of the cave, indifferently ignoring her as Eva wondered out loud her conjectures of why exactly the kinrath chose to colonise a Force-rich cave, and the possible chemical reactions that must somehow happen when the crystal was encased inside a living kinrath egg. And what could the kinrath possibly do with or to that red crystal? It certainly wasn't inside an adult!

Following behind them Carth allowed himself to smile at Eva's unusual enthusiasm. She was certainly an unconventional woman, let alone a Jedi. Nonetheless, there was something somewhat irritating about her – or was it endearing? They were friends. Kind of.

Carth was still trying to puzzle his impressions out when Canderous shouted a warning and began shooting methodically at a group of kath hounds savaging something that glinted slightly in the weak dawn light. Eva was tired and therefore extended a hand, glaring at the hounds before at least two of them were catapulted backwards and upside down, the remaining one lifted spinning into the air. Eva decapitated one of the fallen kath hounds before the other regained it's feet, disembowelled it's companion and then waited tensely as the last one was tossed out of the air and crashed onto its side. It raised it's head from the ground, and weaved it as if disorientated. Eva thrust herself into its line of vision and glared fiercely into the beast's eyes.

Canderous shouldered his assault rifle and watched interestedly, as Carth readied his blasters and awaited a signal from Eva. Somehow in-between Taris and yesterday, they had come to consider her their leader, at least in battle.

The kath hound lowered its head and grunted once, before heaving itself to its feet and shaking the dust from its hide. Eva was still staring steadily into its eyes, before nodding once and sighing deeply. The kath hound tested its feet before regaining confidence and trotting off into the distance.

"This one wasn't under the hold the others were," Eva explained thoughtfully. "He preferred to stay alive."

"Or maybe he was the only one weak enough to give way to you," shrugged Canderous.

"Perhaps," agreed Eva, with a tight little smile. Stupid Force-blind Mandalorian! She was the Jedi, wasn't she?

"What were they attacking?" Carth got to the heart of the problem.

Eva moved closer – whatever it was had been and was still obscured in the shadow of a tall rock embedded in the earth. As she moved herself into the shadow, the object was clear – a droid.

"Who is your master?" Eva asked without preamble, quite puzzled. "Why on earth would the kath hounds attack you? They attack anything living, but they won't usually attack something they can't eat."

"If you will excuse me, I will not inform you of my Master's identity. Please do not press me on this matter," the droid implored in a servile voice commonly used for protocol models. "I provoked the Kath Hounds. I wished to be destroyed, but you intervened. Please, would you terminate me?"

"What the…" Eva stopped, her eyebrow quirking up, before her expression turned serious. "Are you damaged, droid, or is your Master a weirdo who programmed you to be a suicide drone? You must inform me of all the details. I am Jedi Revan, and you must acknowledge my authority." Eva often found that pulling rank only worked with law-abiding droids. If this one resisted her, then clearly it was made for an illegal purpose.

The droid's vocoder made a sighing noise. "Very well, Jedi Revan, I will obey you. I am unit C8-42, a personal assistance droid to Elise Montagne, a wealthy widow who lives north of here. Although the 'assistance' I render seems to have taken on a disproportionate significance." The droid's tinny voice nevertheless expressed a subtle emotion, something like dread or despondency.

"Did your Master program you to find some way of destroying yourself?" Eva asked sharply.

"No, I ran away of my own free will, but I have my reasons!" C8-42 felt very strongly about this.

"Your free will made you think that getting beaten up by a pack of kath hounds sounded like a good idea, huh? Are you sure you're not malfunctioning? I could take a look for you," Eva offered.

"The kath hounds were not that bad, considering what I had to put up with at my owner's."

Eva frowned. "Some people treat droids very abruptly, but surely you have protocols to deal with harsh behaviour. I really don't understand your dilemma."

Canderous snorted. "It's just a droid, Jedi. Junk it and let's get back to business."

The droid again made a sighing sound. "To be a droid: a second class being with no rights at all!"

Eva looked distressed. Wringing her hands absentmindedly, she spoke, "Oh, cheer up! I'm sure we can do something to help the situation. Now, what's your problem?"

The droid managed to look abashed somehow – something to do with the way it was toeing the dirt, perhaps. "I'm afraid my owner got a bit too attached to me… obsessed, even. She tried to treat me as her dead husband."

Eva's mouth dropped open. "Look, I'm a Jedi, but I'm not ignorant. Do you mean…"

"You don't want to know," wailed the droid.

"I don't think I've ever felt so bad for a droid before," Carth muttered.

Canderous guffawed.

"You poor thing!" Eva exclaimed, barely restraining herself from hugging the droid, figuring that might trigger nervousness in C8 after what the droid had related. "But you certainly shall not be destroyed. The Jedi Enclave is a sanctuary – and it may well be one for you, especially if I talk to the droid technician. He's a friend of mine."

"You will not make me go back to her? That would be for the best, Master Jedi. Perhaps she could meet people then. Real people."

"You come along with us," Eva commanded, "We won't let your twisted Master get you back. We just need to prowl around the plains for a while. I'm looking for a Cathar Jedi – you wouldn't happen to have noticed one, would you?"

"I am afraid not, Master Jedi," C8 said apologetically, "the only living sentient beings I have seen in my bid for escape have been Mandalorian raiders, and they were quite far off."

Canderous' head shot up and a small fire of determination lit in his eyes. "Droid, we need to know their location."

"Canderous, we have other things to do!" Eva said crossly.

"Ordo has a point," Carth intervened. "We must act on our current information. A day or so isn't going to make a difference with your Cathar, but who knows what homesteaders could be preyed on in that time?"

"But," Eva pouted.

"Eva!" Carth snapped.

Eva tossed her hands in the air. "Look at me! Look at yourself! Do you really think we're up to taking on a bunch of Mandalorians, arguably some of the best fighters in the universe?"

"These aren't Mandalorians," Canderous spat disgustedly, his voice vibrating with revulsion. "They are scum who could not stand defeat and fled the final battles! They do us no credit, and must be wiped out!"

"More than that, this seems to be the final band," Carth said earnestly. "From what I've heard, there were three major attacking forces, and Ordo and I cleared out two of them yesterday. This one must have the leader, the one that settler told us had a lightsaber. We have the chance to rid Dantooine of one of its major troubles. Don't tell me you aren't interested in that."

"I feel I should inform you at this point that I have absolutely no capability in violent activities," C8 broke in timidly.

"No kidding, rust bucket," Canderous tossed back.

Eva vacillated from looking back and forth at each of them before she sighed, and relented. "Just let me call the Enclave and get a little backup on this," she begged.

It was soon done, and Eva worked on healing their most serious battle scars. She didn't want to deplete her energy before the battle. She already had a bad feeling about the future encounter.

It was well into the morning when they reached the place where C8 had seen the Mandalorians. Three brown robed Jedi and two wearing blue arrived at the same time, each wearing watchful expressions as they nodded in acknowledgement to Eva. Eva dragged her datapad out of one of her pockets and tapped at its controls, patiently waiting for something that appeared to take some time to load.

Canderous peered over her shoulder at the image displayed. "What is that, some kind of topographical picture?"

Eva made an indistinct noise, before answering, "The Jedi here are part of Dantooine's security forces. Henceforth, many of the higher members of the Order are given access to certain tools. In this case, I'm downloading an image from the appropriate satellite that may show us the Mandalorians' exact location as of fifteen minutes ago."

"If you have these things at your disposal, then how come you Jedi have allowed the Mandalorians to go unharmed for so long?" Carth asked exasperatedly, before noticing the other Jedi's hostile glares at his statement. "Let me guess, the Jedi Council is always right, even when they're not?"

"Certainly not, Carth," Eva scolded him, "but I really don't see that you have any position to stand from when the Republic let the entire Mandalorian race pillage one planet after another for seven whole years. A few weeks here and there seems like nothing in comparison."

"None dared to go against us," Canderous agreed, pleasantly reminiscing.

This seemed to rob Carth of any further speech.

"May I suggest something, Master?" one of the Knights asked Eva.

"Of course," Eva nodded, once again using the calm voice she usually issued her Jedi-isms in.

"We should attack the Mandalorians from two sides, in two groups. One of us can join your group, and the rest of us form our own. As far as the fighting area goes, the sat shows the targets in a field sided by two cliffs. Jedi need more space for fighting, so we'll have to make sure we don't get penned by them, but we could turn it around and press them as much as we can."

Eva appraised the plan in her mind. "Seems sound. We don't have enough time for making things cut and dried, and we'll only be outnumbered by twice our number, and half of those are Duros. I've never thought much of their fighting skills."

The council-of-war concluded, everyone readied their weapons, and quietly made their way to the agreed starting points. Carth and Canderous stood within a nearby stand of trees, with another Jedi who didn't disdain blaster rifles, so they could lay down suppressing fire as the Jedi moved into close combat range. If they took the Mandalorians by surprise as they hoped, then they might be able to cut down their opposition by a fair margin before the raiders knew what hit them. As Carth opined, they were used to attacking, not being attacked.

Naturally, C8 had been left in a nearby field. He had promised he would stay put and not get up to any mischief – not that anyone but Eva would care.

The six Jedi present connected themselves into what would be the Force equivalent of a prearranged radio frequency. It thrummed resonantly as they reached their prearranged time and leapt into action, swiftly advancing on the band of raiders.

As Eva had pointed out earlier, Mandalorians were superb fighters, and their outcasts were hardly less so. In less time than Eva had hoped for, they had organised themselves into optimum fighting positions and began pressing the Jedi in a counter-attack. Eva blocked herself off from her companions and focussed solely on her own survival, calling on the light side of the Force to augment her senses, tactics, calculations and defences. Loath to risk exhausting her Force reservoir, she refused to use it unless her life was in imminent danger of termination, which it was, several times.

By the time she had hacked her way to the Mandalorian leader, a burly warrior in a Mandalorian suit of blood red and wielding the aforementioned lightsaber, Eva was bloody and dishevelled from several blaster shots and cuts from blades she had been a fraction too late to avoid. _I'm going to kill Carth,_ she fumed as she faced up resignedly against the arrogant enemy, _he should have realised the two 'groups' he and Ordo managed to eliminate were merely scouting parties. If I hadn't insisted on backup, we would have been pet food._

"Greetings, Jedi, I am Sherruk," the red suited one mocked as they each twirled their respective lightsabers, "I am pleased that I shall be adding another lightsaber to my collection shortly. And why stop at one? Perhaps you should give up so I can get on with my day."

Eva grunted as she resisted the weight pressed on her lightsaber by the other. "Sorry, I'm unhelpful like that. You're going to have to exert yourself, tin-man."

"That works for me, too," shrugged the Mandalorian as he began a brutal series of strikes against Eva's saber. She was hard pressed to stave off his attacks, and realising the futility in trying to hold her position, began taking cautious steps back, merely trying to avoid going the way Sherruk was trying to guide her. All she could do was fight defensively – she knew that his swordplay was superior to hers.

As everyone else on her side in this fight were as busy as she was, the best she could think of was to try and buy herself some time. Trying to husband her remaining resources in the Force, she quickened her movements and began using everything she could to prolong the fight, by dodging behind the large rocks and trying to surprise him with small moves to keep him on his guard, by darting around the speeders the Mandalorians had 'acquired' to transport 'troops' and loot, and by projecting small rocks at him when he least expected it via the Force. She was far too fatigued to attempt any acrobatic movements.

All too soon, her bag of tricks were exhausted, as she was. She reflected that she had slowed down since the days of her practise with Squint, before determining to injure Sherruk as much as she could. Glaring at his shiny metal visor she reached her free hand out, momentarily wondering just when she had crushed it between two rocks, and concentrated fiercely. Her bloody fingers contracted, and Sherruk stopped abruptly.

Eva's legs gave out on her and she fell inelegantly on her backside as she stared up at the Mandalorian and waited silently. With a metallic whine, Sherruk's head flew off his shoulders and rolled some distance away. Eva blinked. That was unexpected. She peered hazily up at the airspace Sherruk had previously inhabited and saw the blessed vision of Canderous with a purloined lightsaber in hand, scratching his head and wondering how to turn the damned thing off. Glancing around, Eva noted the bodies of the raiders spread over the field, noting a few prone Jedi and Carth off in the distance, looking concernedly at her before approaching.

As he neared into earshot, Eva managed to breathe, "Hope you're happy now, Commander," before crumpling fully to the ground in a dead faint.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: General-joseph-dickson gave me the idea for Canderous' night-time hijinks with a review he sent in a few chapters ago. So, you see the proof – you express your opinions, you make the story better, or at least longer!**

**I thought perhaps that the loophole here was that T3-M4 should also have had the locking codes, and could exit the Ebon Hawk and go for help. However, consider the fact that in K2 when you're on Nar Shaddaa and those Trandoshan slavers come aboard, I think T3 stays there and doesn't warn you. Also, he might have decided to stay on board to prevent the possibility of Canderous piloting the Hawk and flying off – though Canderous would probably not have been given leave to by the air space controllers. There are comms. – but perhaps Eva shut hers off so she wouldn't be disturbed? Again T3 could have unlocked the Ebon Hawk and allowed Jedi Security to come in – but perhaps he is also wary of the Jedi? Ah, well. Fiction doesn't need to be realistic. That's how we can write about lightsabers!**

**Personally, if the Star Wars universe was real and I lived on Dantooine, I would want to eradicate every single kinrath on the planet, but as I don't, I can feel magnanimous. By the way, my Carth doesn't really like kinrath, either (who could??) but he doesn't like inflicting suffering on any animal. What a sweetheart!**

**Much of what C8 says is canon. Eva's reaction sprung from my ideas of what one of Jen DeClan's Exile characters, X Cal'Ibur would have done. Somehow I couldn't get over my ideas for Eva's passionate support of Droids' Lib. **

**Well, the caves are done, C8 is half done, and the Mandalorians are pushing up daisies - or whatever fauna is typically grown on gravesites on Dantooine. I proved that Eva isn't invincible – well, she is, but she can get banged up! I was a little disappointed in my characterization of Sherruk – he's a lot more obnoxious in the game, but a body is a body, no? **


	25. Identification

**Chapter Twenty Five:** **Identification**

_Previously: Canderous chose new accommodations, Eva and Carth got an un-requested wakeup call. Eva wanted to find Juhani, but all she managed to find was lots of kinrath, kath hounds, an abused droid and vicious Mandalorian raiders with a peppering of Duros to taste. Eva, Carth, Canderous and generic Jedi managed to eliminate the threat, but not before Eva was totally done in and passed out. The others didn't look so good either. _

Eva's faint lasted no more than the time it took for Carth to pull out a medpac and prep a kolto injection, conscientiously cleaning the injection site of blood and grime before poising the tip above her. As her eyes cracked open, she squeaked upon sighting the weapon grasped in his hand. Carth jumped at the sound and almost dropped the syringe.

"Dammit, Eva! You nearly gave me a heart attack," he grumbled as he gripped her arm again.

"That's the least of your troubles, flyboy," Eva groused, flexing a hand painfully.

"What?" he asked densely.

"You and your take control attitude. Now I'm all banged up," she grizzled.

"Excuse me, but last I checked, I didn't take your free will," he returned uneasily. Truth be told, he did feel a little guilty.

"No, but I nearly became a shish-ka-jedi," pouted Eva, wincing at stretching her cracked lips.

"You can't fight worth a damn, Eva," Canderous jeered, "I expected better from a Jedi than to succumb to scum like that."

"I resent that remark! It was, after all, you who dragged me out of bed well before I needed to, and it's not like you tore apart as many kinrath as I did this morning," sniffled Eva. "By the way, thanks for the save, Ordo."

Canderous shrugged. "For a mediocre Jedi, you did okay lasting as long as you did."

"I'll take that as a 'you're entirely welcome, Revan,'" Eva sighed. Glaring at Carth, she snapped, "Well, what are you waiting for? Plunge that thing in me!"

Carth did as he was told. Canderous was making the rounds of the corpses, snagging weapons and occasionally snuffing out those enemies who had not entirely given up the fight for life. He avoided the prone Jedi, until one let out a heartrending moan. Canderous nearly dropped a grenade on his foot.

"Ouch!" One of the Jedi groaned unoriginally. The bloodied Force-user lifted a hand gingerly to his head, and blinked dazedly. "Damn!"

"Eva? I caught one of your Jedi swearing over here," Canderous yelled, not willing to aid the Jedi but loath to ignore his presence in the land of the living.

"Hey, you! Knock it off," Eva shouted back as she shooed Carth away and began systematically categorising her hurts.

One by one, the Jedi regained consciousness and dragged themselves into positions for meditation to help speed their Force resources along. Carth would have gone over to Eva and commented on it, but she was in a trance of her own and was therefore unavailable.

"They're not zombies, are they?" Canderous asked Carth.

"I don't know what they are," Carth said frankly, "but this sure doesn't explain why the Jedi are supposedly 'going extinct'."

Canderous sighed and planted his butt firmly on one of the speeders. It was obvious that the Jedi weren't about to move until they woke up, again. "You fought in the Mandalorian Wars, didn't you? We may have faced each other in combat. What battles were you in?" Canderous' voice held a wistful element, the type people use when talking about 'the good old days'.

Carth stiffened, eyes narrowing and long ingrained hostility rising in his expression. "I try not to think about my fighting past too much. I've never been eager to relive the horrors of war."

Canderous scowled. "The 'horrors of war'? Mandalorians know only the glory of battle! I'm disappointed in you, Carth! I thought you were a warrior."

Shaking his head, Carth explained tersely. "I'm not a warrior – I'm a soldier. There's a difference! Warriors attack and conquer, they prey on the weak. Soldiers defend and protect the innocent – mostly from warriors."

"Nice speech," Canderous sneered, still grimacing in disgust. "I bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep. But I… I accept who and _what_ I am! I don't have to justify my actions with words. Victory in battle is my justification!"

Carth leapt on this latest declamation. "Justification through victory? So what happens when you lose? You know – like you did against us?"

Canderous scoffed, a reminiscent gleam entering his eyes. "You had us outnumbered five to one! You had more ships, more troops, more supplies, _and_ the Jedi on your side! And we still made the Republic tremble before we fell!"

Carth rolled his eyes. "Nice speech. I bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep. I don't want to talk anymore, Canderous! The war is over. You lost." And with that Carth pushed off, stalking to the other side of the field, and nearly tripping over a body. A warm body.

Noting that this person was not Mandalorian, Duros, or Jedi, Carth bent and reflexively searched for a pulse, more out of habit than hope. Unexpectedly, he felt the weak flutter under his fingers, and went into field-medic mode, drawing on his training.

Once his basic medical instruments were fairly confident the young man's health was stable, he surmised from his garb that the man was a settler who had been attacked by kath hounds before hiding here, or was 'rescued' from the kath hounds by the raiders and dumped here. Turning around, he saw several wobbly looking Jedi pick themselves off the ground. Carth carefully lifted the young man and started towards the speeders.

Canderous saw Carth laying the young man on the vehicle and shook his head derisively. "Really, Republic. Do you have to pick up strays?"

"I don't see why you're complaining, Ordo, since _you_ were the last stray we 'picked up'," Carth returned defensively.

"Do you two ever stop fighting?" Eva drawled, yawning as she came out of her trance. "Honestly, why can't you do the friendly man thing, and grunt a bit, punch each others arms and get along?"

Both men looked at her with undisguised bewilderment. She shook her head sadly.

"Never mind. I say we appropriate these speeders and go back to the Enclave, where we can get proper treatment for our wounds and return the stolen property, as well as sell the rest for compensation to the most heavily affected settlers," Eva said, before seeing Carth's new charge. "Who… I've seen that boy before. He's a son of one of the wealthy settlers. Mantral? Sadale? Is he going to survive?"

"I think so," Carth replied, moving over to help Eva to her feet and guide her to a speeder.

Eva frowned for a moment before sighing, "I'll make sure he does." Closing her eyes, she portrayed all the now familiar signs of healing someone through the Force."

The other recovering Jedi soon staggered over to the other speeders. Carth decided to pilot Eva and the young settler himself, and left Canderous seated and seething in front of two battered Jedi, the other three warily climbing aboard the other speeder. As the three speeders hummed along at a genteel pace befitting wounded warriors, Eva sighed and brushed a hand over the young man's forehead, smoothing his grimy locks out of his eyes.

"I wonder how he got mixed up in this mess," she mused, gentle emotions surging to the forefront of her mind. Maybe it was the near-death experience she had just gone through, but she definitely prized life a little more and felt fortunate to be still breathing.

Carth shrugged as he guided the speeder gently through a turn in the landscape. "The Mandalorian raiders were raiding settlers – we found an injured settler near their camp. No mystery there, Eva." He frowned a moment. "You know, I'm still not satisfied about your name."

Eva drew up her eyebrows in enquiry. "What about my name offends you? Do you still find it mannish? I did try to rectify that for you."

Carth shook his head, glancing at her momentarily before returning his eyes to the terrain ahead. "It's not that. But, you know, Bastila Shan, Vrook Lamar, Ulic Quel-Droma, Exar Kun. They all had more than one name. Even that weird little green alien Jedi has two names."

Eva mock frowned at him and replied, "That's Master Vandar to you, Republic."

Carth chuckled at hearing Canderous' nickname for him issue from Eva's mouth, not to mention her imitation of his voice. "Even Malak, you told me he was Alek Squinkie-something."

Eva couldn't help bursting into laughter. "Yeah, that was one of his nicknames. Makes you wonder if anyone nowadays calls him Darth Squinky."

"It's possible," Carth said solemnly, "he has to stay in shape somehow."

After they thoroughly enjoyed that interlude, Carth got the conversation back on track. "But I'm not giving up about your name, you know. I know Bastila doesn't know it, but I'm pretty sure your Council does."

"Yeah, but…" Eva started then stopped, disgruntled at falling into his trap.

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to have to improvise," Carth goaded her deliberately, shamelessly using the opportunity. "Revan sounds like a guy's, so I'll use that for your surname. You don't look like an Angela, or a Tabitha, or an Elora. Asphani Revan? Too fussy. Danis? I always hated that name."

Eva glared at him. "You know, I'm not exactly an innocent Jedi – I've been in our Archives. Do you know much about the delicate art of Sith torture? I can provide you with a _grounded_ introduction to the subject." Carth was never quite sure if he really had seen a spark or two fly from the fingertips of one of her hands.

"I won't stop till you tell me your name," Carth answered bravely.

"Fine!" Eva spat, staring to the side angrily. After a moment, she mumbled something.

"I didn't hear you," Carth said.

Revan spoke up sullenly. "Chab! Chab, all right? My name is Chab Revan." She winced at Carth's upraised eyebrows. "All through my apprentice and Padawan years, it was apprentice Chub, or Padawan Chubby. When I became a Knight, I only used my last name. That's a hell I don't want to revisit."

Carth smiled in sympathy. "I hear you. When I was a kid, the others called me Carth-Arth. What's with parents, anyway, calling their kids such awful names?"

Eva rolled her eyes and recited, "My grandmother was called Chab, and her mother before her was called Chab. According to the dusty old language they used to speak, it meant something along the lines of 'wise' and 'respectful'. Any woman should be proud to bear such a dignified name." She snorted after she finished her speech.

Carth narrowed his eyes at her. "You know your family? Isn't that against the rules of the Jedi?"

"Knew, Carth, knew my family. It's kind of unavoidable when they raise you, you know?" Eva sighed and would have run a hand through her hair, but decided it was too dirty and bloody. She really didn't need to look any worse than she already did. "I was found by the Jedi when I was seven – older than many when they come to the Order, and certainly old enough to retain memories of my origins."

"Was it hard?" Carth asked delicately.

Eva looked at him bemusedly before she realised he was asking about parting from her family. "No, actually, it was a relief," Eva stated baldly. At Carth's look of disbelief, she elaborated. "Look, I was born on a poor planet, to even poorer parents. That was mostly because of my father, mind you," she said bitterly.

"I don't understand," Carth said slowly, "I know that it can be hard to be poor, but family bonds are more important than wealth."

"Tell that to my father, if the deadbeat is still alive," shrugged Eva. "He couldn't hold down a steady job, or, more likely, wouldn't. Because the shiftless fool wouldn't apply himself, my mother, who loved him, Force knows why, worked at whatever menial job would pay money. I joined her working when I was three and able to follow simple commands." Eva's eyes grew dark with memory. "Sometimes it was fairly clean work – laundry, agriculture. Mostly, it was hard, back-breaking, dirty work. It aged my mother unbelievably in the few years I knew her. But we lived, simply, but alive. We moved from here to there, managing to eat, but not much more than that. I was damn lucky they didn't want to sell me. And then it all went wrong."

"When the Jedi came?" asked Carth with his one-track mind.

"No!" Eva groaned exasperatedly. "The planet's climate changed. Famine spread planet-wide. Even wealthy residents couldn't always find enough to eat. We starved, Carth. Even now I can hardly bear to remember some of the things we ate, when we were lucky enough to find them."

"I'm sorry," Carth said, recognising the inadequacy of his words.

"Heh, I'm fat and sassy now," Eva grinned at him understandingly.

Carth laughed, his eyes softening beautifully. Eva's smile froze momentarily as she unintentionally drank in the sight of his mellow brown gaze. Unsure, she forced her eyes to the passing view to the side and continued her tale in a muted tone.

"_That_ was when the Jedi came, a party of Masters and Knights sent to try and relieve the suffering of the sentients living there. Along with care packages, they were also learned in agricultural evolution and enhancement. They didn't just try to soften the effects of the famine, but they turned the tide around, planning for the future. Eventually, I was in the presence of a Jedi and she noticed me immediately. I was strong in the Force, albeit untrained in it. My use of it was mostly instinctual."

"You can do that?' Carth asked, momentarily side-tracked.

"Heck, yeah. How do you think we came to learn to use it? You know, you probably use it on a basic level too. I mean, you've been a soldier how long, and survived?"

Carth looked visibly unsettled by this. "I… there are lots who have served longer and are living still."

Eva shook her head and tried to explain it in a way he would accept. "You know, some people refer to the Force as the Life-Force. You know, elemental life energy. You'd be stupid to say your life didn't save your life, wouldn't you?"

"Okay, whatever," smirked Carth, willing to let it go. "What then, when the Jedi found you?"

Eva shook her head in amusement, and continued with her life story. "At first, my mother was horrified by the thought of being separated from me. We loved each other, you know? And my dad – he liked me there, too. He was attached to me in his own way. Same blood, and all that. But when my mother came to understand the advantages I'd get from the Jedi that I wouldn't have if I stayed with her – education, security," she sighed, "a _future_, well, she couldn't say no. She explained everything to me and I agreed, and here I am. If the Jedi hadn't taken me, I would have died, or if I was very fortunate, become a servant or labourer, mired in superstitions and ignorance."

"You owe the Jedi," Carth mused, "and this is why you defend them."

Eva paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "Don't mistake me, even now, I kind of miss my family, well, mostly my mother, but it's not like I'm at a phenomenally long boarding school. The Jedi _become_ your family. I had many friends; in fact, I had two that I felt were my brothers. I got into lots of trouble, went through my rebellious teen angst phase and had second, third, fourth and fifth doubts about my life. I've considered my choices, and so far, I've always chosen the Jedi. I know you are mistrustful of the Jedi, Carth, but what you don't realise is that you don't know enough about us to have a fair opinion. The good they have done to the galaxy outweighs the bad they have unintentionally done. You can't say you don't feel that way about the Republic."

Carth thought about her words all the way back to the Enclave.

**(&X&)**

Cleaned up, healed, and relatively comfortable, Canderous, Carth, Eva and the five Jedi involved in the Mandalorian encounter stood before the Dantooine section of the Jedi Council in their ascetically furnished circular council room.

"Were you out of your minds?" Vrook Lamar queried in a hard tone. "Jedi were put in danger today by your irresponsible actions."

"And in doing so, rid the citizens of Dantooine of a threat that has plagued them for weeks," Master Zhar contradicted placidly. The Twi'lek Jedi was not as afraid of prompt action as his grumpy human counterpart.

"The Jedi are becoming too few in number as it is," groused Vrook, nevertheless taking note of his fellow councilman's point and refraining from further comment. He did not, however, refrain from wearing his habitual scowl, though it is possible that the lines of his face merely fell naturally, according to his nature.

"The Jedi are sworn protectors of the peace and the Republic," Eva spoke up quietly, realising that Vrook probably was the type of Jedi Carth thought typical of the Order. "I regretted and continue to regret the danger I placed my fellow Jedi in, but they had the choice and they chose to honour their duty."

Vandar interjected calmly, "And yet we have more pressing worries than that of a band of raiders. If you had been lost in the fight, a useful fund of knowledge in yourself would have been lost."

Carth refused to allow his emotions to surface on his face. Was that all Eva's adopted family thought of her, as a 'useful fund of knowledge'? He supposed Bastila was only valued as a battle tactic, not as the emotionally fragile teenager he deduced she was.

Eva paused, remembering words that Mission had spoken to her. "I recently came across the principle, Masters, that expresses the view that the universe cannot be saved by means of wars, but only by consistent action and the care for individuals, not merely masses. Perhaps the universe is still in danger, but I do not believe anyone present would not agree that Dantooine's future has been brightened since the Mandalorians were dealt with."

Zhar Lestin looked penetratingly at her. "Wise words. I am glad you are still studying the great Jedi Masters and their writings."

Eva looked back at him, a barely detectable grin twitching her lips. "Master, I believe we never stop learning."

Vrook looked/glared at the other Jedi and dismissed them. He would have tried to persuade Carth and Canderous to leave as well, but the aged Jedi recognised the strength of will displayed in Canderous' raised eyebrow and sardonic smirk, and disliked the idea of making a scene with a Mandalorian, of all people. Vrook might not have been the most tolerant Jedi, but he knew how to pick his battles.

"Revan, you are concerned," Vandar stated, peering up at her.

"Yesterday I was informed by Master Quatra about Juhani. I found it very disturbing," Eva said plainly, shifting on her feet.

"You enquire about Quatra's teaching methods?" Vandar queried.

"Pardon me, Master, but I cannot see what Juhani can learn when she is driven out of her senses by fear and anger," Eva said bluntly, oblivious to Carth's barely repressed cheer.

"Quatra's methods are somewhat off-colour when compared to many of our great Jedi teachers," Dorak contributed.

"We neither approved nor discussed her methods with Quatra," Vrook stated, looking as peeved as Eva had ever seen him. "You may have heard that she is bound for Coruscant – there we have arranged for her to tutor Padawans and Knights in swordplay and basic applications of the Force. She will be placed on watch to make sure she does not endanger another one's standing in the Light."

"I am partially relieved, but I am anxious for Juhani," Eva said, nodding her head a little, and shifting again from foot to foot. She was beginning to tire of standing.

"We have engaged some droids to scan satellite images for her whereabouts. Perhaps if you had known of this development you would have had a more pleasant morning, hmm?" Vandar returned, raising a scruffy eyebrow.

Eva stammered for a moment before grinning and pouting, "That's not fair, Master Vandar."

"You do solve an issue for us, Revan. We were unsure of who to send to bring Juhani safely back, but it is a natural choice to pick you, with your history together," Zhar informed her.

"I don't know," Eva grimaced, "we weren't on good terms. When I thought I might be the only one looking out for her at the time, I thought I was better than no one, but now…"

"Juhani has matured since then," Zhar replied. "I have no doubt we shall obtain her location in time for you to meet her tomorrow."

"You should gather your strength, Revan," Vrook barked, "You look terrible."

"My thanks, Master," Eva rolled her eyes and bowed deeply, thankful that her balance was not yet impaired, and coaxed her two male companions to exit with her.

"Your dinner should be ready on the _Hawk_, Canderous," Eva nudged him. "You wouldn't want it to get cold."

"Whatever," grunted Canderous, heading for the hangars.

Carth stepped alongside Eva down two hallways before asking, "Where are we going?"

"To what you would call the mess, Commander," Eva replied humorously.

"Great. Are they serving shish-ka-jedi today?"

Eva's reply was a faked scowl and a headshake.

Once arriving at the cafeteria, they were silent, absorbed in making their food choices. Usually, Carth had noticed Eva's portions were similar to his in size, but today they seemed to be only three-quarters of that amount. He decided to forego drawing notice to it, telling himself it wasn't like she couldn't lose a few pounds. Still, he wondered whether it might not have something to do with the stress she had recently suffered. He would keep an eye on her, anyway.

When they were seated with their foods of choice in front of them, he ate for a while before commenting quietly, "I saw it, Eva."

"Saw what?" Eva asked bewildered, mentally cataloguing her recent memory for any misdeeds she had committed that he might not have approved of.

"In there, with the Council. You're not afraid of them, and they're… they're pretty tolerant of you. It's like some kind of weird collective father figure. And like fathers, they have their faults, but that doesn't change who they are."

Eva smiled, pausing her task of eating to sigh in relief and pleasure. "That's a roundabout way of putting it, but yes, we're something similar to a family unit. There's much less passion, naturally, and no moms," she laughed.

The penetrating voice of Vrook floated to them from across the room. "You do not know the Jedi Code?!? Without knowledge of these doctrines all your training will be for naught! All Jedi must know the Code! Its tenets are the fundamental teachings of our order!"

Eva winced. "And like all families, we have our crank uncles."

Carth pointed his spork at her. "Mind you, I won't keep silent when I think you guys are making a mistake, but from now on I'll try not to be so…" he searched for a word.

"Paranoid?" Eva supplied, grinning fiendishly.

"Cautious," Carth emphasised, scowling playfully at her.

"So, where do you fit in with this family description, Carth?" Eva teased. "Country cousin? Heretical nephew?"

"Devastatingly handsome pilot friend," Carth replied with a straight face.

"Okay," Eva agreed mildly, suppressing yet another grin. She was convinced her face was going to get a cramp if she continued much longer in his presence. Perhaps the violence of this morning had purged the darkness from him for a time. As the thought occurred to her, she acknowledged to herself that he did indeed have his dark side, and if at all possible, she would try to help him resist its influence. He had earned her care. As had Canderous. When the burly Mandalorian was ready to talk, she would be there, if she could.

Interrupting her musings, Carth enquired interestedly, "So, do I know your former Master? The one you were Apprentice and Padawan to, or has he or she retired due to advanced age?"

"Ha, ha," Eva glared slightly at him. "No, you don't know her."

"Her, hmm?" Carth prompted.

Eva sighed theatrically. "There are not enough hours in the day to acquaint you with the very strange tale of my original mentor. Suffice to say, she was the Archivist before Frigid Ice Jedi, uh, Master Atris, that is. She introduced me to many of the items there and explained how they shaped her own perceptions." Eva frowned in contemplation. "And if you thought _I _was weird…"

"I suppose I can't judge you," Carth mused, a saturnine expression flitting over his features. "One day I'll tell you about my mentor. That is, if you haven't looked at my file already."

"Darn, I keep reminding myself," Eva joked. She continued, "After my first, Kreia, I learned from other Jedi Masters who were experts at their fields. Zhar, Kae, even Dorak. He can go on forever, but he has a comprehensive knowledge of Jedi history. And you know what they say – those who take no note of past mistakes are doomed to repeat them."

"Instead of making new ones?" Carth grinned wistfully. "Yeah, I try and keep up on the histories, too, though I'm probably more interested in military chronicles than certain mystics seeking for the ultimate knowledge."

"That's right, Carth. Keep to your own intelligence level," praised Eva good-humouredly.

**(&X&)**

"Nineteen, wow, that's impressive," Mission praised. The eager Jedi apprentice opposite her grinned elatedly over his arrangement of pazaak cards. Mission allowed him his moment of glory, before clearing her throat and dealing the final card. "But my last card is a plus/minus three, so, I'm sorry, my twenty beats your nineteen."

"Well played," the chastised apprentice nevertheless applauded. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am we are not playing for credits."

Mission shrugged. "Well, it's not like you Jedi are rolling in the stuff, and even I have my principles. Besides, a knowledge of pazaak will take you surprisingly far in the galaxy – so I'm doing you a favour. When you're a Jedi Knight and on important missions, every now and then remember the important Mission, all right?"

"Done," beamed the friendly apprentice. They parted amicably; their tolerance for cards, while long, was not indefinite.

Mission wandered from the cafeteria to the courtyard outside the Enclave without a single error in her direction. Years of making her way around the labyrinthine passages of the Lower and Undercities of Taris had made her internal map making pretty accurate. Making her way over to the low courtyard wall, she sat on it and yawned, enjoying the warm sunshine on her lekku. She was quite bored now, having used up her daily quota of friendliness to strangers. Bastila was cooped up with the Masters, not that Mission really wanted to speak with her, but at least Bastila had some idea of where she came from and what interested her. As for Zaalbar, Mission had long ago given up any hope that he would develop the skills of a good conversationalist. Still, if she was desperate… but for the meantime, Mission wanted to buff up her rusty skills of eavesdropping. It wasn't hard, all the settlers waiting for audiences with the Jedi were also bored and discussing their various troubles with each other.

Mission heard a lot about the Mandalorian raiders. At first, she wondered whether they were really as bad as they were made out to be: Canderous wasn't that bad, and he was pretty much a typical Mandalorian, or so the others seemed to think. However, as she listened further, she heard details of their raids, and of the consequences that followed. When the eventual news of their defeat made its way into the Enclave, Mission was grimly pleased for the settlers, if somewhat astonished that it was mostly due to the efforts of her new found friends that the Mandalorians finally received justice.

It was with some trepidation that she heard that the conquering party came back rather banged up, but she was thankful to hear that they were all pretty much alive. The fact that the Jedi had finally acted, and had even suffered for the sake of the settlers, went a long way to appeasing many of the others' doubts about the Jedi's intentions. Sympathy began running stronger for the Jedi than Mission had heard it before. The Twi'lek teen mentally filed that information under Eva's name. Lazy she might have been – but Mission had seen far too much to write off the chunky woman.

Carth and Canderous had been involved, too. Mission wondered why Canderous fought against his own, but decided that there was no way the Mandalorian could be forced into doing anything he didn't want to do. Ordo must have had his own reasons for buying into the battle. Carth, Mission reflected, had always seemed like a stuff shirt with a bit of a soft side. It wasn't hard to understand why he bought into the fight, considering he must have run the gauntlet through the crowd of settlers several times and heard their stories for himself.

Musing to herself, Mission found her thoughts straying to Bastila. Poor thing, Mission sympathised in her head, having one's brain continually poked by the Jedi must be an awful thing to undergo. Bastila had been composed but a little pale when Mission had seen her go to her appointment with the Council. They must feel that she was an important but dangerous asset, to monitor her so closely and so invasively.

She started listening again, her ears pricking up at the strange syllables comprising names. The settlers were talking about two prominent families on Dantooine – who, unfortunately, lived no great distance from each other. Their own self-importance and inability to bend to the will of others, especially each other, seemed to have made a questionable situation worse, and now seemed to have escalated into something of a feud. Each of the intractable men invested heavily in guard droids and security measures in their opulent manor houses, each refused to speak to each other except in abusive tones, and each had plenty to say about the other: none of it good.

To Mission, it sounded like two rival swoop gangs from back on Taris. Which of the Sandrals and Matales were Beks, and which were Vulkars? Mission was wise enough to realise that situations are rarely as black and white as those examples. Then the pitch of the settlers' voices changed again, and there were some muffled exclamations. An aging man walked through the parting settlers, marching through without acknowledgement, fair skin florid with frustration.

"What's got Ahlan Matale's panties in a bunch this time?" an impertinent voice soared above the crowd.

Unhearing or unheeding of the jeering sentiment, the Matale patriarch steamed along, briefly stopping before an obviously aggrieved Jedi and declaring, "I demand an audience with the Jedi!"

Mission unobtrusively switched on her stealth belt. She wasn't going to miss this free show!

Calmly and smoothly the Jedi slowly transferred Ahlan Matale through the proper channels, unconcerned at his fuming face and obvious agitation. The sedate pace of the proceedings allowed Mission to follow with ease. Mission was half-surprised that the Jedi didn't sense her, but they were clearly fairly relaxed and not expecting anything untoward or surprising. When they were left waiting, Mission amused herself by counting the strands of hairs in Matale's comb-over. Like many Twi'leks, she had a fascination with hair, having none on her head and very little, if any, on her body.

When half an hour had passed, Matale and Mission were admitted to the circular Council chamber where Mission had seen Eva enter a time or two before. Craning her head around, Mission catalogued the entire compilation of items in the room before any of the Jedi Council addressed the furious farm baron.

"I demand action," Ahlan spoke imperiously into the silence.

Three pairs of inscrutable Jedi eyes appraised him dispassionately. Of course, Vrook glared with his own set.

"Is that so?" Master Zhar Lestin asked mildly.

The doors opened, and from her invisible position Mission saw Eva and Carth walk through the portal. Eva appeared a little worse for wear but well and truly mobile, and Carth seemed no more damaged than a few dark spots on his beloved jacket. Mission marvelled again at the potential of Jedi healing.

"I am in a meeting with the Council, Jedi. I do not appreciate my time being wasted with interruptions," Ahlan said peevishly to Eva.

"My apologies, sir," Eva said, her eyes clearly belying her respectful tone. "I am Master Revan. I was requested to be here for this meeting."

"And your companion?" Matale asked irritably. "I am not blind – he is no Jedi."

"Commander Onasi, Republic Liason," Carth said glibly.

Ahlan seethed for a moment.

"You requested to see us, Mr. Matale?" Vandar prompted.

Ahlan paused a moment to regain his original line of thought. "I ask for justice, Master Jedi! The Sandrals have been a blight on Dantooine ever since they settled here. They must be punished!"

"And your reasoning for this request?" Vrook growled out, his behaviour expressing his previous acquaintance with the facts and his rapidly worsening temper.

"Nurik Sandral has kidnapped my son! How can there be any explanation for his disappearance?!" Ahlan insisted.

"How long ago has he been missing?" Dorak asked, preparing to take notes on his datapad.

"Three days he has not returned," Ahlan said bitterly. "Three days he has been imprisoned by that lunatic!"

Carth muttered aside to Eva, "He's certainly not talking about our lost young man. There's no resemblance between them at all."

Eva nodded, but nevertheless spoke up. "Sir, I trust you have pursued all possible alternatives?"

Ahlan turned purple. "I know what happened! He took my son, and he now laughs at me! Do not think I do not know why he sent his droids onto my land! I destroyed them, and if you fools will not give me justice then you are not fit for your office!"

"Peace, Mr. Matale," Vrook barked, "disrespecting the Jedi will not advance your cause here."

Holding back her indignation, Eva persisted, "I merely wished to ask if you know if your son was accompanied when he went missing. A young man of wealth has recently turned up in our care gravely wounded, and though it is clear he is not your son, perhaps he may have seen something or was confided in by your son."

"My son has no secrets from me," Ahlan said defensively, but acknowledged, "However, I can see your point. I will see this man and ascertain whether or not he is connected to my son in the slightest way."

"This young man was attacked by kath hounds," Eva said plainly – no delicate way to go about this. "Is it at all possible your son may have been at risk of attack?"

Ahlan obviously envisioned the possibility. The colour fled from his face and his eyes glistened before he shut his eyes and resumed his former expression. "Every bad thing that has happened to me has been at the hand of Sandrals. This matter is urgent – who knows what that under bred man might do to my son? If you refuse to take action soon, I will be forced to attend to matters myself. Perhaps that would be best!"

"I am sure it will not come to that," Eva soothed, her clenched fists held behind her back. "I can assure you that both I and Commander Onasi will look into this personally. I promise you we will find your son. Our investigation will begin immediately."

Ahlan started to look somewhat appeased. "I will spare no expense to have my son back. Whatever it takes, I need him back."

Eva balanced her angry thoughts about her services being mercenarily motivated, beside her practical impulses that stated clearly that as a wealthy man, Matale could easily spare a nice sum that could go to the Enclave. "Whatever you deem appropriate will be put to good use at the Enclave," she finally said noncommittally. "Please, come with me and interview the young man. I was just informed of his awakening when I heard of this meeting and decided to offer my help. Please, come."

Ahlan reluctantly followed them to the Jedi medbay where the healers had been working diligently on the injured youth. The moment Ahlan walked through the door and clearly saw his face, he lurched forward and grasped the poor boy's sleeping tunic in his hands and shouted, "What did you do to my boy, you trash!"

"Mr. Matale!" Eva scolded, as Carth quickly reacted and yanked the estate owner rearward by the back of his collar.

"Ask him!" Ahlan yelled, his tone high-pitched. "Ask that Sandral scum where my son is!"

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Hey, you didn't really think I'd kill off good Jedi, did you? Even poor generics have a right to… whatever it is they have in my fic. I just thought this would parody the game – you know, your team members succumb in a fight and fall down, and the minute the last enemy hits the dust, they're like, "Ouch!" and up and moving. I LOVE unreality! (And if you're somehow reminded of Mass Effect – well, that line about zombies comes from it.)**

**So Carth and Canderous had 'the talk'. I know I didn't change it much – but why try to improve a good thing? I think that conversation sums up their stances very nicely. Aenzo gave me the idea to let Casus Sandral live – but I'm sure you saw it coming, didn't you? Aenzo told me off when I was lazy and ripped off the game's dialogue. I'm trying to make things glide from one quest to another, instead of just something to do. **

**In one of Lucasarts adventure games, the Monkey Island series, the hero, Guybrush Threepwood, has the opportunity to introduce himself as 'Squinky'. For some reason, that always had me in chuckles, and the idea of anyone calling Malak that just couldn't be resisted. And have you noticed how seriously ugly names sometimes come up in the Kotor name engine? There was an even worse one in my opinion than 'Chab', which was 'Shab'. I mean, what?? **

**Eva's history is completely made up. In opposition to my negative feelings on the Jedi, I wanted to project a scenario where the Jedi solved a problem and stepped in, creating a positive outcome, and explain why Eva is so attached to the Order. Kind of like Anakin Skywalker and Bastila Shan – they were given an opportunity to be more than a slave or a hunter. What are your views? You know how much I love reviews! ******


	26. Opposition

**Chapter Twenty Six:** **Opposition**

_Previously: Eva and the rest recovered from their battle with the Mandalorians, giving Eva and Carth time to talk. Eva used the opportunity to explain her point of view to Carth, who promised to keep her information in mind whenever he had thoughts/opinions/problems with the Jedi. The Jedi growled at them but otherwise looked the other way, and the previously unidentified Casus Sandral was given all possible medical care and managed to wake up in time to be the first person questioned in the new Jedi investigation into the whereabouts of missing Shen Matale, and attacked by Ahlan Matale, Shen's father. Mission successfully sneaked around the Jedi._

Eva could barely look at the comely young gentleman sitting up in the medical bed before her without acute embarrassment. It wasn't like she planned his assault, but she definitely did not feel good that she had just introduced a man into the room who promptly attacked the injured youth. Carth evidently felt the same and had dragged Matale out the door by the scruff of his neck the moment after he pulled him off of Sandral.

"Mr. Sandral, I apologise for his rude behaviour," Eva spoke, a worried look on her face. "I would not have brought him here if I knew he would act so. But was he correct? You are named Sandral?"

The young man blinked a few times and nodded, running a curiously rough hand over his features. "Lady Jedi, yes, I am Casus Sandral. And I would accept your apology, if I didn't know Ahlan Matale was incapable of better manners when confronted by an object of his derision. You have nothing to reproach yourself with."

Eva was taken aback; she was certainly not expecting the young man to possess language quite as erudite as this. "My thanks, Mr. Sandral."

"Please, call me Casus. I am not yet of age, and the honorary form is unfamiliar to me."

"Casus," Eva smiled, "Are you feeling better now? You were not in a pretty state when we, well, Carth, the guy who was with me, found you."

"Personally, I think I look remarkably well for someone who had been ravaged and then left to fend for himself in the wilderness for four days," Casus said diffidently. Carth came in at that point, sans a handful of angry Matale, and leaned against the wall.

"Four days?" Eva said, surprised. "My goodness, you must have a very good constitution."

"I've always thought so," Casus replied, "but another day would have finished me off for certain, the Jedi healers tell me. I do thank you for saving my life, Master Revan."

"Do you know me? Or did you get my name from the attendant Jedi?" Eva asked curiously.

Casus smiled, rendering his features even more boyish. "I don't blame you for not remembering. It was at least twelve years ago. My mother and I came to this Enclave during a particularly busy time, and we were separated. I was found by what I remember as a very tall Jedi. He didn't know what to do and gave me over to you. You entertained me with various Jedi tales until my mother could be found. I've never forgotten your kindness."

Eva smiled apologetically. "I wish I could say I remember it, but I'm afraid I don't. There must be at least fifteen lost children every year in this Enclave."

"Only lost children, Master Revan?" Carth enquired dryly.

Eva pursed her lips. "Naturally, those adults whose sense of direction is deficient often encounter trouble upon venturing into these hallowed halls."

"That could be the reason why my father doesn't associate with the Jedi," Casus opined wryly. "Perhaps he came here once and lost himself so completely it leaves an unpalatable impression to this day."

"We used to wonder why the Enclave was designed so, us Padawans, that is," Eva reminisced, "I think the most reasonable explanation we dreamed up was so that the Jedi got enough exercise in times of peace, by forcing them to roam along its interminable corridors."

"In any case, I would appreciate knowing exactly what Mr. Matale is up to this time," Casus Sandral asked. "His complaints about the Sandrals vary only in the crimes in which we are supposed to have committed. If you could tell me about this one, perhaps I can expedite your investigation."

Eva shook her head after a moment. "I doubt it, Casus. Mr. Matale's son has gone missing, but that happened after you disappeared."

Casus sat up straighter in bed. "Shen is missing? Thunderation."

Carth broke into the conversation. "You call him by name? Are you two friends or enemies?"

The young man shrugged. "Eh, I can take him or leave him. He's easily manipulated, but I can't hold that against him. The fact is, he and my sister Rahasia have a bit of an infatuation going on. If it was a day or so only, I might have thought perhaps they'd eloped, or something similar, but you would have heard something if my sister went missing as well."

Eva said slowly, "So, let me get this straight. Mr. Matale and Mr. Sandral are at the brink of declaring a feud, while their son and daughter are falling in love? When did we jump into a romantic drama?"

"Couldn't Shen be hiding somewhere from his father? He'd make an intimidating figure to a boy," Carth suggested.

Casus shook his head. "Despite his mercurial temper, Ahlan Matale really loves Shen, and Shen loves his father. It's been just them for over a decade – Mrs Matale has been dead for quite some time. I doubt that Shen would subject his father to such pain over a petty reason."

"Sounds like you approve of him," Eva said, measuring his response.

"I do," Casus matched her gaze, fully cognizant of all the undertones of the statement. "Granted, he has his faults; so do we all. He has a kind heart and refuses to take on his father's prejudices. I think he would make a good husband for Rahasia in a few years."

"In all this, you never mentioned your father," pointed out Carth.

"Like Shen, Rahasia and I are motherless, have been ever since Rahasia's birth," Casus answered sadly. "It affected our father badly. His whole focus now is for our well-being, and every challenge Mr Matale brings against the Sandral estate, my father sees it as attacking us personally. It began with such petty things – now it escalates into alleged kidnapping."

"I've promised Mr. Matale that I will begin an investigation into Shen's disappearance," Eva informed him, adding firmly, "and I can promise you that I will conduct it in a manner fair to all parties involved. As a Jedi, I'm not interested in needless persecution."

"I take it your first stop will be at my father's estate," Shen surmised wisely. "In that case, to help your cause, you may inform him that I am alive and well. They are no doubt quite worried as to my welfare. Here, this datapad should convince him that you come from me."

Eva accepted the datapad, noting the scores and scratches marring the surface. "Wow, it's been through the wars, hasn't it?"

Casus smirked. "I use it in the field. I'm an archaeologist, and things tend to get dirty when you are digging in the soil."

"How old are you again?" Carth asked.

Shrugging, Casus replied, "Twenty – and if you are asking whether I am self taught or not – well, the answer is both. There are more ways to attend classes than physically doing so, and there are exceptions to the age rule."

Eva shrugged. "I think I took a few archaeology centred classes when I was twelve. It holds appeal for all ages. Thanks for this, Casus. We'll find your family and tell them you're alive, and hopefully everything will end happily."

As they walked out of the room, Casus called out to them, "May the Force be with you."

"It always is," Eva said smugly to Carth as they made a detour to their current rooms. Before Carth went inside his, Eva stopped him to talk again. "Carth, would you do me a favour and pack your things?"

"Planning on sending me away?" Carth asked, an eyebrow lifted quizzically.

"No, but I don't like the idea of leaving Canderous on the _Hawk_ all alone. I mean, I trust him only so far. The _Hawk_ is too precious to risk having something happen to it."

"Understood," Carth said instantly, his pilot's instincts surfacing. "I'll move my stuff when we come back from informing the Sandrals, correct?"

Eva nodded and they went into their separate quarters. While Carth freshened up and made changes to his attire, Eva decided to go for the dignified look and wore dark green under a light green robe, embroidered delicately enough to grace minor diplomatic missions. Upon catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, she made a face and began taming her tangled blond hair, brushing it into submission and neatly pinning it close to her head. It didn't exactly do wonders for her chin, but at least it was neat.

Carth was startled when he finally saw Eva exit from her room. He had been waiting by his door, wondering whether he should move off without her, when what seemed like a completely different person walked into the hallway. The hairstyle aged her, but her face was quite clear of wrinkles and softly coloured, so he wasn't quite sure what to think. As they made their way through the Enclave, he teased her for a while until she raised her hood over her head in a huff, completely obscuring her hair and leaving only a portion of her nose clearly showing.

Ignoring him, Eva raised her comm unit close to her lips. "Bastila? Are you done with the Council?"

"_I have been released for an hour now,"_ Bastila's reply came out faintly.

"Do you feel equal to a country investigation with diplomatic issues? Those fractious settlers are at it again, I'm afraid."

"_Certainly. I will meet you in the Enclave courtyard, if you wish."_

"Will she be tired, do you think? Carth asked curiously, having absolutely no idea just what the Council might have been doing to Bastila.

"If anything, she will be suffering a little mental fatigue. A nice walk in the open air should be just the thing for her," answered Eva wisely.

They found Bastila standing silently in the place usually occupied by Nemo. She looked slightly stressed, and merely said, "I am afraid I am not in the mood for conversation. My presence only shall be my contribution here, I fear."

Eva nodded expressionlessly. In her opinion, Bastila had far too many moods – perhaps unavoidable for a teenager, but it was an issue for anxiety that the Council seemed to have a negative impact on such a valuable member of the Order.

It was something of a silent march, that journey across the Dantooine plains to the Sandral Estate. Carth entertained himself by looking out for kath hounds and remembering another walking trip on another world, this time underground and considerably less pleasant smelling. He decided he preferred kath hounds to rakghouls every time. Or, at least he did, till his canine sightings reached alarming proportions. Moving up to Eva's side, he was about to communicate his concerns when she forestalled him.

"I see them, Carth. Act disinterested for as long as you can. We're heading towards a bridge spanning the nearby river – if they're not also on the other side it should provide us with a bottleneck situation that will be much easier to deal with," Eva murmured calmly.

"Master," Bastila spoke up, "can you not use your powers on them? Perhaps with my help, we can end this stand off without a fight."

Eva shook her head twice. "They've a block in their minds. I cannot get through, nor can I try very hard, or it will anger the beasts before we are ready."

Bastila frowned, but decided against replying, her hand finding and grasping the round comfort of her lightsaber hilt. More than ever, she could see the grey and red beasts waiting silently behind the standing stones, waiting impassively. There was something in the silent vigil that was distinctly disconcerting – Bastila wondered for a moment before realising that none of the hounds had vocalised their usual threatening barks. They were unnaturally silent.

The bridge came into view around a bend in the path. It wasn't very big, and the stone railing running either side were narrow enough to only allow perhaps two kath hounds abreast. Eva knew if they were able to reach it, they had a very good chance of getting out of this relatively unscathed. However, an attack in the open might very well end in one or more of them getting injured badly.

As one, the kath hounds abandoned their stand and sprinted forwards towards them, charging in a mass of coloured fur, horns and teeth. Carth, Eva and Bastila obeyed their instincts and took to their heels, running towards the bridge. If they had had time to look, they might have noticed a human-esque figure running amongst the horde of beasts.

The kath hounds caught up to them just short of the bridge. There was no time for finesse or battle-plans, they turned around, used what weapons they had and backed carefully towards the bridge. Eva tried to head off a party of hounds trying to get around them and cut them off, but was brought up short by the coldly bright blue blade of a lightsaber.

"Juhani?" Eva gasped before she staggered back under the challenge of fiercely swung strikes. Grasping her lightsaber in her increasingly sweaty grasp, she struggled to speak. "Wait! You don't have to do this!"

The Cathar warrior clashed her saber against Eva's violently and hissed in her face. "You dare step in my domain?"

"Huh?" Eva concentrated on meeting the superb swordplay of her rival rather than attend overmuch to her words. It was, after all, imperative that she survive, rather than die with her mouth open.

"I rule these plains," Juhani growled, matching her precision with violent brilliance. "My pets and I will tear you to mincemeat!"

Eva was not a swordswoman: but she was a master in the use of the Force, and it was this that she exploited next, throwing Juhani back, and tearing away Juhani's Force-based shield, causing the errant Padawan to go on the defensive. Eva latched her Force Grip on Juhani's ankle, unbalancing her and toppling her to the dirt by the side of the stream. Rapid and fluid in her movements, Juhani recovered in an instant, her passion flaring dark and angry, fuelling her power in the dark as she lashed out at a momentarily unready Eva. The blast of Force propelled her backwards to land with a thump against the outside railing of the bridge, and, unbalanced, to tumble over the side with a scream cut short as she sank into the swiftly flowing water.

The pack of kath hounds suddenly disengaged Carth and Bastila, acting as of one mind and quickly retreating past the rocks and trees. The formerly beleaguered pair were disoriented for a moment, glancing at each other momentarily before looking for the third member of their party.

"Where's Eva?" yelled Carth.

"She was here a moment ago!" shouted Bastila back unhelpfully.

Thrashing in the cold stream, Eva panicked and accidentally gulped down water. There was no room for thought in her mind as her limbs flayed through the heavy denseness with a mind of their own and her stiffened body struggled in vain against the gentle pull of underwater gravity. The fruitless fight for survival possessed her mind until her hand brushed against the pebbled bed of the stream. Half blinded by locks of hair wrapping around her face, Eva fought against her instincts and by sheer force of will, took a fear laden moment to note her surroundings. She recognised the dark wall in front of her as the bank of the stream, and lurched towards it even as she searched it with her eyes to find something to pull herself up. Her vision was darkening, her lungs burning, her head full of strange pains and her mouth conscious of a strange taste. The current was strong and she had no idea how far she had been swept downstream. Her fingers found a tree root and a jutting rock. She tried as hard as she could to push herself upwards, but all her strength had left her, and her force of will was eroding under the lack of oxygen. She was about to surrender to the stream as she felt herself lifted through the water and dragged into the air. She breathed in a tiny amount of air and was immediately wracked by an immensely painful fit of coughing. Somewhere, the wiseass in her wondered if it would just have been simpler to drown.

It had taken Bastila and Carth a few minutes to locate Eva – she had been swept quite a distance down from the bridge, and the stream had been deeper than either had estimated. As they were searching, Bastila told Carth that generally Jedi were tougher than average – quite possibly, Eva might be able to last more than twice as long underwater as he would be able to – but despite this, both were starting to feel more than worried. When at last they saw a portion of her light green robe under the water – why in the world she didn't wriggle out of the thing they didn't know – they worked in silent but furious concert to get her on dry land as soon as possible.

Now that she was sprawled on the ground hacking up river water, perhaps their heart rates could calm down. On his knees beside the prone Jedi, Carth tried to catch his breath while monitoring Eva's slow recovery. Soon, Eva's paroxysms ceased. With a heartfelt groan, Eva rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, trembling violently.

"Don't they teach you to swim?" Carth growled at her, not looking at her now she was out of danger.

"I know how to swim," Eva croaked, struggling to raise herself in a sitting position and managing to hug her knees. "I just haven't… practised… in a couple decades."

"I don't understand, Master," Bastila voiced into the following silence. "How did you end up in the stream? And why did you stay there? I mean, couldn't you _do_ something? Hold your breath? I mean, you're a Jedi. You've been a Jedi for a very long time."

"I couldn't," Eva said dully, as she stared blankly. As Carth turned his head to yell at her some more, he was shocked to note actual tears in her eyes, swelling up and cresting over her lashes and sliding down her cheeks, mixing with the river water and dirt streaks on her face.

"Master?" Bastila asked tentatively.

"Give me a moment," Eva demanded with a sniffle, digging in her sodden robe and producing a wet blob of something or other. Abandoning the useless mass, she found a reasonably clean corner of her robe and dabbed her face with its moist surface. She bowed her head for a moment, and let out a long-drawn out sigh. "I was caught off guard, and I have a minor phobia of being immersed in water. Jedi - light-sided Jedi, anyway – fuel their powers in the Force by means of concentration, calm concentration. It was all but impossible for me when I was down in there."

"How did you fall in? Were you pressed by too many hounds?" Bastila asked, conscious of a slight prick of pride that _she _had been able to withstand the kath hounds' onslaught.

Eva shook her head, letting out another sigh and rubbing her cold hands on her sodden pants again. "It seems we found Juhani. She said something about the kath hounds being her pets – but I really don't see how she could possibly influence them as they are – it's not possible for a Padawan. I was fighting her, and she caught me in between Force attacks – my word, she's fast – and pushed me kinetically into the stream. Good thing she high-tailed it… she's fiercely angry and I'd hate to see you two cut up into mincemeat, as she put it."

"So she's definitely gone bad," Carth frowned, absently grabbing one of Eva's hands and chafing it between his own.

"She's angry, and pulsing with dark power," Eva answered broodingly. "I wish Quatra were still here. As utterly stupid as she is, she was the only one who had a real bond with Juhani. It's for certain she hates me."

"The Jedi Masters teach that no one is closed off to redemption," Bastila hesitantly said.

"True," Eva shrugged, "and she really doesn't have a lot to repent over. It's not like she tried to murder the entire Enclave. But it's up to the individual. If Juhani can actually be saved, it will only be because she wants to be. And I don't know if she does."

"I don't think much of traitors, but from what you've told me, she does have extenuating circumstances," Carth interposed reluctantly. "The destruction of her homeworld, believing she killed her Master, and being left alone and vulnerable in the wilderness…"

"She had as much time to think about doing the right thing as doing the wrong thing," Eva pointed out dryly. "It's not like you went kill-crazy after Telos."

Carth's lips thinned down as he looked sharply at Eva.

"O-kay," Eva said slowly, "that's a chat for another time. Well, chances are that the Enclave would have found Juhani and will track her progress from here on. They simply have to find another Jedi to liaison with Juhani. As far as she and I go, it's a dead loss. Let's continue with our original mission."

Bastila looked at Eva with stirrings of pity. "Perhaps we can apply to the Sandrals to help you recover. We need not mention Juhani – the kath hound incident should be enough. They should be grateful to know of Casus' survival."

Eva nodded. "That's a good idea, Bastila. Perhaps we can find something out about Shen on our slightly extended stay."

Only slightly hesitantly, Bastila offered her hand to her Master. Grasping it in her own, Eva heaved herself up from the ground with a few squelching sounds. "I hope this doesn't ruin my boots," Eva lamented. "The Dantooine cobbler that made them has moved off planet."

"Not everyone requires custom made attire," Bastila commented ironically.

"So I have funny shaped feet. Sue me."

"You're going to catch your death if you don't take off your robe," Carth warned her.

Feeling sorry for herself, Eva peeled the waterlogged garment from her arms and shoulders. Thankfully, her clothes underneath covered her neck and arms down to her wrists. Rolling up the long robe and stuffing it under one arm, she glanced at the swift moving waters. "Where did my lightsaber go?"

Without a word, Bastila handed her the cylinder she had discovered laying by the water's edge. Eva rattled it in her palm. "I hope I didn't break it. It's one of my favourites."

"I thought you Jedi are not supposed to be attached to possessions," Carth wondered.

"You see my dilemma," Bastila answered him, rolling her eyes.

Ignoring them, Eva took her bearings and struck off towards the Sandral Estate, squelching in her boots impressively. The sun shone; but its golden rays were weak and unavailing against her sodden clothing, and she believed if she didn't start moving soon, she would turn blue. Ordinarily, Eva enjoyed the sight of the golden grass at harvest time, but now all sorts of weeds were leaving their variously barbed seeds in the legs of her pants, and bugs of every sort and size seemed curiously attracted to her damp dirt caked face. As of a few minutes ago, Eva lost all appreciation for nature and longed for nothing more than a hot bath.

Moving along after her, Bastila sighed. "She is one of the most powerful Masters in the Order. I am fortunate indeed to be able to learn from her. That's what I tell myself. Why can I not fully believe it?"

Carth tilted his head to the side as he absently studied Eva and the foreground in front of her. "She's something else. At first I couldn't believe she was a Jedi; no offence."

"None taken," Bastila said, staring at her Master disapprovingly. "Sometimes I can't believe it myself. The tenets she disregards, the teachings she dismisses, I wonder how she managed to attain the rank of Knight, let alone Master."

After a pause, Carth suggested, "She doesn't actually break any rules, does she? If the Jedi Council uses her, surely that signifies that they approve of her and her methods?"

Bastila shrugged. "The pool of Jedi to choose from is rapidly drying up. Perhaps it is nothing more than she is the best they can scrounge up."

"That's unkind," Carth reproved.

Bastila flinched. "I know. It is also unbefitting a Jedi. I am no better than she is."

Carth squinted towards the sun and offered her some advice. "If you're serious about being a good Jedi, I advise you become less exacting in your principles. I'd personally rather deal with a Jedi like Eva than that Master Vrook."

"Indeed," Bastila agreed with a hint of a smile. "I suppose I should apologise for the way we started off back on Taris. As I recall I was quite uncooperative."

Carth waited. "Well?"

Bastila smirked. "I'm working on it."

"Whenever you're ready," Carth sighed, smiling in spite of himself, continuing to trudge towards the barely visible estate manor.

Eva walked up to the droid guarding the main entrance of the Sandral estate in a thoroughly bad mood. "I wish an audience with the head of the Sandral family," she requested formally, scowling.

"The Sandrals are not at home to company at this time," the droid informed her implacably.

"I bear news concerning Casus Sandral," Eva snapped.

"You have news of Master Casus?" the droid repeated.

"Yes," Eva huffed.

"Master Nurik will indeed wish an audience with you, once he is informed," the droid conceded. "Please wait here while he is made aware of this development."

"Can't I even get out of the wind?" Eva cried to the droid's retreating back.

Carth and Bastila had by now caught up to Eva. Wordlessly, Carth began to draw off his jacket, having wondered several minutes ago whether he should have already done so. Eva caught sight of his movement and shook her head at him, slightly smiling at him for the thought. "I'll be just as miserable. Besides, in two minutes I'm going inside, guard droid or no guard droid."

Thankfully for her companions' peace of mind, the droid returned before her two minutes had gone and escorted them into an aesthetically pleasing room complete with living trees under skylights. Nurik Sandral entered a few moments later.

Eva studied his haggard appearance and felt sorry for him despite herself. The days of not knowing his son's fate had obviously wreaked havoc with his health, and even his mental stability, as was evidenced by the uncertain and somewhat uncomprehending expression in his eyes and the unquiet movements of his hands as they dangled by his sides.

"You have news of my son?" his quavery voice sounded wistful.

"We do. He is safe, Mr Sandral," Eva said immediately.

"He is… safe?" questioned Nurik, unbelieving. "I was sure that Matale had harmed him."

Eva silently decided against telling him that Ahlan Matale had certainly had a good try at it. "We discovered him this morning. He had been attacked by kath hounds, but evidently managed to get away, before collapsing. He was gravely injured, but we took him back to the Jedi Enclave and our healers are confident he will make a full recovery. He gave me this to give to you…" Eva dug the datapad from her sodden robe, "as proof that he lives. He's quite comfortable."

"Kath hounds?!" Nurik repeated.

"Yes, sir," Eva said slowly, trying to gauge his comprehension. "He will probably be able to go home in a few days."

"But I was so sure Matale had taken him," the old man repeated, shaking his head.

"Mr Matale is too busy, and I hope, too honourable to do such things," Eva said sharply. "His son has gone missing as well, and there is no such happy ending for him so far."

Clutching his son's datapad in his hand convulsively, Nurik swallowed and glanced towards a door presumably leading deeper into the estate. "I… apologise. I must have time to think on this. It has been some days since I have slept…"

"I understand," Eva smiled, before suddenly sneezing.

"You are … wet?" Nurik asked confusedly.

"Fought kath hounds, fell in river. Nothing major," Eva shrugged, reluctantly wiping her face with her robe. "May I trespass on your hospitality a moment and freshen up?"

"Kath hounds," Nurik said senselessly for a moment before shaking himself and beckoning to his droid. "Take care of them, please. Offer hospitality. I have to go… sit down." He turned and disappeared through a door without another word.

"What is going on?" a young woman's voice asked from yet another door.

"Mistress, these 'people' have come with news of the young Master. They are dishevelled and require aid, it seems."

Eva hated that droid now.

"Oh, my, you are soaked through," the young woman stepped forward. Slender as a reed but with determination shining through her chocolate brown eyes, she took Eva's hand in one of hers, and felt Eva's forehead with the other. "Please, come this way and I will help. A bath, and a change of clothes."

"You are my new best friend," Eva smiled in anticipation. "You're Rahasia, are you not?"

"Yes, I am," she said in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Casus told me about you," Eva explained simply.

"Casus! You have spoken with him? He is well?" Rahasia stopped and clung to Eva's hand.

"Yes, he is well and recovering nicely at the Jedi Enclave," Eva reassured her, "I'm a Jedi, if you can't tell."

"Oh, yes. I recognise your garb, and the garb of your female companion. Your other companion…"

"Republic Liaison, at your service," Carth interjected, not unpleased to have something to say.

"Oh, my," Rahasia smiled widely.

As Carth blushed, Eva tilted her head and appraised the young woman. "Casus told me you know Shen Matale."

Rahasia's hand stiffened in Eva's. "I do. He's a very nice young man. Now this way, I will have the bath ready in a moment. You two can rest in this sitting room," she motioned to another door, "you will find it heated, and stocked with food and drink, should you wish for them." Steering Eva into the refresher, she left Carth and Bastila to open and go in to the room she had gestured to.

Noticing the bed, Carth said to Bastila, "This isn't a sitting room."

Bastila made her way to the food storage and said, "Perhaps she was so flustered by you she mistook her room names. She wasn't wrong about the food, however, and I shall be glad to break my fast."

Carth stared at Bastila. "We're here, at the manor of a suspect in our investigation, unsupervised, and you want to eat?"

"I will not abuse the hospitality we have been given so graciously," Bastila insisted, removing part of a roasted waterfowl from a canister and daintily tearing it apart with her fingers. The look of bliss as she placed it in her mouth made Carth aware of his own hunger, and after glancing at the door wistfully, he took his place beside Bastila and searched for something to eat himself.

The door to the room had not closed completely, something neither of them noticed or minded. It turned out to be quite handy, as a few minutes later they heard Rahasia walk past, presumably after settling Eva into her bath and leaving her in peace. As they listened, they both noted in surprise that Rahasia had decided to enter the room next to theirs. They heard the door open, but not close, and were somewhat stunned to hear the following conversation.

"Rahasia! What are you doing here? Are you sure your father will not come and discover you here with me?" It was a male voice, youthful, with a thread of insecurity ringing discordantly in his tone.

"It doesn't matter any more. Casus was found by Jedi, and two Jedi and a Republic officer are in the house as we speak. Father has absolutely no reason to hold you now. I'll take you to the Jedi and they can escort you back to your father. He must be frantic over your absence."

"But… no, I won't go. Not until Casus comes back. I don't like the state your father is in, and I won't leave you alone with him. I'll die before I let the feud between our parents risk your safety!"

Carth suppressed a quiet snort at the young man's chivalry.

"Shen, listen to yourself. My father has no reason to harm me. He loves me! It's you I've been worried about these last days!"

"I don't trust your father!"

"And I don't trust yours, but you don't hear me making an issue out of it!"

Furious silence followed, broken by a sigh prefacing the following words. "I'm sorry, Rahasia. I was out of line."

"Oh, my darling, I'm sorry. I'm scared, too. I'm scared that one day our fathers will go too far and all this will end in blood! We can't let that happen. Surely when you are returned safely to your father, you can explain the whole misunderstanding."

"It's not like my father listens to me."

"There is a first time for everything, Shen. Perhaps after this, he will realise how much he values you and will pay attention to what you say."

"I don't think so. My father's favourite phrase is 'father knows best'. I haven't believed that since I was eight."

"Perhaps… perhaps we should use the Jedi. They're here, already, and aren't the Jedi supposed to be arbiters of peace? If our fathers won't listen to us, they may pay attention to them!"

"Well… I suppose there is a chance, isn't there?"

Another sigh, and sounds of cloth brushing against other cloth.

"So, Rahasia? When should we approach the Jedi and tell them of our plight?"

"Oh, they already know. The Republic officer and one of the Jedi are in the next room, listening."

"You mean… they heard us?"

Carth cleared his throat. "Afraid so."

Bastila added her input. "Don't fear. You were actually kind of sweet."

"Oh, Shen, you look so handsome when you blush," Rahasia's voice assured him dotingly.

Bastila and Carth looked at each other for a moment before silently agreeing and rising, exiting out the door and joining the young pair.

"It would probably be best if we kept you company until Eva is ready to go," Carth offered them his explanation.

"Also, perhaps if your father came to look for Shen, he would appreciate our chaperonage," Bastila suggested.

Rahasia wrinkled her nose. "You know, he would, too."

**(&X&)**

Eva didn't allow herself to luxuriate in her bath for long. She had an investigation to pursue and now that her health was out of danger and she had a dry change of clothes, she could get out and pursue it.

Putting on the casual pants and shirt that Eva presumed came from Casus' wardrobe, Eva mentally ran through the list of information she had already gathered. She also remembered Rahasia's reaction to Shen's name; there was definitely something going on there and Eva was going to find out. Her dunking in the stream would not be in vain.

Her perturbation on finding her quarry, her victim, and her companions all in the same room and conversing amicably was great.

"Would someone, _anyone_, be good enough to explain to me what is going on?"

"Eva! You look better. Not so blue," Carth greeted her.

"She looks rather red right now," Bastila commented, biting her lip to prevent a smirk of satisfaction.

"Oh, Lady Jedi!" Rahasia welcomed her effusively. "I am sorry I disassembled before, but I thought it necessary. I gather that you were investigating Shen's disappearance as well as informing us on Casus' survival. Shen has been staying with me, and now that you're here, you can escort him back to his father. Just ignore my father – he's had very little sleep lately. You know, with the worrying about Casus and all."

Eva sighed and rubbed the back of her head with her hand. "Oh, well. At least Shen isn't a kath hound chew toy, as I feared he might be."

"I'm glad about that, too," Shen agreed.

"Come on, guys," Eva shrugged, "we might as well be off now. Thanks for your hospitality, Rahasia."

Shen took Rahasia's hands into his own and smiled at her. "Will you see me off?"

"Of course," Rahasia smiled back shyly, "I can't bear to part with you so soon!"

"I want to stay with you too, but I know I cannot," Shen sighed.

"Good. Then let's get _going_," Eva emphasised; unsure if even a broad hint could stop the couple from exchanging googly eyed looks.

With Rahasia guiding them, they exited out of an unguarded door out into the estate grounds. Clear of opposition, Eva glared at Shen who was still holding Rahasia's hand. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Mr Matale?"

"Shen," Rahasia crooned, raising her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind Shen's ear. "I can't wait till we are reunited again."

"How old are these children?" Eva asked Carth.

"Oh, Rahasia," Shen breathed ardently, leaning forward and kissing Rahasia enthusiastically, if clumsily.

Huffing in frustration, Eva turned around and stopped still as she noted Ahlan Matale marching forward furiously flanked by two heavily armed droids. "And there goes our happy ending."

"Shen!" Ahlan Matale barked.

"Rahasia!" Nurik Sandral yelled, hurrying out from the estate manor, where he presumably had discovered Shen's absence.

"Father!" both young people cried to their various paters.

"Nurik!" snarled Ahlan.

"Ahlan!" growled Nurik.

"Get away from that Sandral harlot, Shen!" ordered Ahlan unwisely.

"My daughter is not a harlot, Matale dog!" Nurik returned righteously.

"Don't you speak of Rahasia that way!" Shen chided his father in a high voice.

"Rahasia! Get away from that boy!" Nurik commanded, as a pair of equally well armed droids came to support his side.

"I will not! I love Shen!" Rahasia wailed defiantly.

"And I love Rahasia, Father!" Shen told his father, this time making an effort to keep his voice at its normal register.

"People! Stop!" Eva broke in, glaring first at one angry father and then the other. "Please, for a moment, let us resolve this in a civilised manner. We are not savages, but rational people, are we not?"

"I am a civilised man," Ahlan said self-righteously.

"I am pleased to hear it," Eva said pointedly, "Nurik Sandral, do I have your cooperation?"

"Do not take advantage of my gratitude for saving my son, Jedi," Nurik warned, sounding a lot more lucid than he had at their previous meeting. Perhaps he had been drinking a few mugs of caffa.

"I wish to do no such thing. I merely wish to advance your own best interests, and that of your children. You wish for that as well, don't you?" Eva answered patiently.

"Please, gentlemen, all we wish for here is to be a help to you, and to ensure peace. Is that not a goal everyone should strive for?" Bastila contributed, her big grey eyes doing much to sooth the two elderly gentleman and rouse their paternal instincts.

"You may proceed," Nurik conceded, following a somewhat rigid nod from Ahlan.

"Ahlan Matale, will you please state your grievance in a clear and calm manner?" Eva requested.

"That… Sandral," Ahlan took a deep breath to calm himself, "kidnapped my son! Anyone can see that I have a right to see him destroyed for that!"

"You started it first, you pompous old windbag," Nurik growled. "You destroyed my droids; that is an act of war!"

"Your droids were spying on my estate!" Ahlan rebutted.

"My droids were searching for my missing son! When you destroyed them, I knew … I thought you had taken him from me," Nurik's voice broke as he remembered his panic.

"I…" Ahlan stopped, conceding, "Very well, you had some reason to resent me. But that in no way exonerates you from kidnapping my son!"

"Mr Matale," Eva broke in, "In what way does Nurik Sandral's behaviour differ from yours at the Enclave today?"

"I…" Ahlan gaped, remembering his attack on Casus while the youth lay in his sickbed. "Very well!" The land baron paced in a small circle before returning to face Nurik and curtly saying, "I will not charge Sandral with kidnapping. Shen has taken no harm, so there will be an end to it. Come, son. Let us go home."

"Wait, Father," Shen kept hold of Rahasia's hand while reaching for his father. "Please, can we not resolve this feud? Already, it has risked two lives, and it makes Rahasia and I miserable. We're in love, and we're going to marry each other. Whether or not we come back afterward is up to both of you."

"Rahasia!" Nurik approached his daughter, trying to simultaneously discern Rahasia's thoughts from her face and glare at Shen who was touching her. "You will not go with this boy!"

"Father," Rahasia said, softening her voice, "I love you, you know that. But my place is with Shen now. Remember the stories you told Casus and I about you and Mother. I love Shen like that, and I will be wherever he is."

"Perhaps…" Ahlan's voice sounded gravelly, and he paused to clear his throat before starting again, "perhaps this may work out. Your daughter actually seems to care for my son."

"My little Rahasia," Nurik choked.

"Father," Rahasia smiled.

Eva bit her lip and rolled her eyes upwards. Her hand was grasped suddenly by Carth's. As she looked at him, startled and more than a little disconcerted, his merry expression soothed her fears. Trust him not to trust her intestinal fortitude.

"Mr Sandral," Shen spoke up, "I love your daughter very much, and I swear to make her happy till my dying day."

"And I will make you happy till mine," Rahasia said primarily to Shen, but for his father's benefit as well.

"It seems our children have made up their minds," Ahlan said stiffly to Nurik.

Nurik glanced at his old enemy and sighed. "Perhaps we should discuss this more. Would you care to come inside?"

With a nod, the Matale patriarch followed the Sandral family head into the manor house.

Rahasia rushed over to Eva and hugged her in jubilation, following that with hugs to Carth and Bastila. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I can never thank you enough!"

Beaming, Shen agreed with his prospective bride. "Rahasia and I can never repay you for what you have done for us."

Bastila smiled back regally. "It is enough that you are happy, Shen, Rahasia."

"I wish you the best of luck, Shen," Carth shook Shen's hand, "May you find the happiness I once knew myself."

Rahasia glanced at the darkening sky. "Oh, my, you can't walk to the Enclave in this light! Please, stay at our home tonight. I cannot bear to think of anything happening to you, not after what you have done for Shen and I."

Carth glanced at his companions before accepting for all of them. "We would be glad to."

Rahasia's bright smile shone in the waning light. "We'd better go inside. I still wouldn't trust those two not to start another fight!"

Later that evening, as Bastila was blushingly being taught to dance by a somewhat tipsy Ahlan Matale, Eva joined Carth on the plush couch he was seated on and made him meet her eyes.

"Hey."

"What's wrong with booze?" Carth indicated her empty hand with his own, firmly grasping a mug of some sort of alcoholic beverage. "Don't you drink?"

"Rarely, but in this case, I think I had enough river water till last me till tomorrow afternoon. I'll probably be trekking to the 'fresher all night long… ah, there it is." Eva smiled in self-satisfaction.

"What?"

"You looked so gloomy, I had to try and make you smile somehow."

Carth sighed and took a gulp of his drink. "Don't they make you feel really old?"

"Actually, Ahlan makes me feel like an impatient child… you mean the youngsters? You know, I don't feel as if I was ever that young." Eva studied the youths and recalled Carth's wistful blessing on the pair. "You were, though, once?"

"I met my wife when we were no older then those two."

"I do hope you were more discreet," Eva said, carefully choosing her words.

Carth chuckled. "Most of the time, yes, we were. Didn't you ever exchange kisses behind the Enclave with a strapping young apprentice?"

Eva giggled helplessly at the mind-picture his words conjured up. "What kind of Jedi do you think I am, Carth? While I will admit to some… crushes, I guess you'd call them… I've been pretty celibate. Relationships don't really gel with my career… and I had a pretty protective big brother figure."

"Yeah?" Carth encouraged her to continue.

"Oh, yes. My elective big brother – who, I might add, was no older than I was, but considerably taller – had an enduring faith in my innocence. Even when I told him I _wanted_ So-and-So to hold me that close, he felt I was being taken advantage of and promptly flattened poor So-and-So's nose… and broke his arm," Eva grimaced.

Carth made a face. "How… Jedi-like of him."

"He was actually a really good Jedi, most of the time. He was gentle, sincere, and stood up for what he thought was right."

"What happened to him."

"The Mandalorian Wars," Eva said, staring at the floor. "Like I said, he stood up for what he thought was right. He thought it was right to defend the Republic, whatever the Council did or didn't say. He never came back."

Carth shared the silence with her for a moment, before allowing his defensive barriers to fall and started the conversation again, beginning, "During the Mandalorian Wars, my commanding officer was a man named Saul Karath…"

**Author's Notes and Explanations: It's more than about time, but I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. I fell victim to the 'black dog' and for a while couldn't stand to write, but in this last day I have suddenly felt inspired and wrote pages and pages!**

**Due to the absence of the Sandral and Matale matriarchs in the game, I'm going to assume they had already perished. Perhaps if there had been womenfolk, the idiotic patriarchs wouldn't have been so eager to start an all out war with their neighbours, but rather become drinking buddies and sharing tales of marital hardship in each other's smoking rooms. Also, if their significant others were gone, it stands to reason they'd be even more protective of their progeny.**

**From what I've gathered from the movies and games, Light Sided Jedi have to concentrate to use the Force. (Well, duh.) What I mean is, if a Jedi panics, quite likely their power in the Force gets compromised pretty severely. I've already mentioned that Eva has a phobia of water, so hopefully this sounds relatively convincing. **

**I gave Rahasia a backbone – the girl needed it! I think, despite their youth and overall sappiness, this version of young love will pretty much live happily ever after … until Malak bombs the hell out of their planet… well, shoot. I was going to end the chapter where Rahasia leads them back inside, but somehow I wanted to write the rest. Leave your comments on how lame it is or isn't! I promise to answer them this time. :)**


	27. Illumination

**Chapter Twenty Seven:** **Illumination**

_Previously: Eva and Carth chatted with Casus Sandral, before collecting Bastila and heading to the Sandral Estate. On the way, they were attacked by Kath Hounds and a very angry Padawan. The fight ended with our heroes intact and Eva got an impromptu bath, after which she soggily made it to the Sandral Manor and landed in a hotbed of intrigue and romance – between two love-struck teenagers. All was resolved and the three stayed at the manor for the night._

After a very comfortable nights' sleep in a luxurious bed, Bastila rose early and groomed herself meticulously as she was accustomed to do. She made good use of the attached 'fresher, but reluctantly passed over the scented bath oils, knowing that Eva would disapprove mildly, and the Jedi Masters somewhat more. It briefly occurred to her that she could have had a worse Master. The corollary in her mind was, of course, she also could have had a better one.

Just as the sun began to warm the plains and valleys of Dantooine, and the iriaz began to croon at the awakening of the day, Bastila slipped out of her rooms and down to the visitor's parlour. She had the room to herself for another five minutes, when Eva and Carth both ambled down from their respective rooms to break their fast and communicate with the Jedi Enclave. Eva had sent a short message over the comm yesterday, with the result that the Council demanded her attention first thing this morning.

As Eva moved in front of the communication display and entered the codes, Bastila took her place behind Eva and to her right. As a Padawan, Bastila had no other place in the ensuing conversation except as an observer, unless she had particular information to offer or if she was questioned directly. Bastila stiffened herself, imposing an emotionless expression on her face. At least she had Carth for company in her inferiority, not that the Commander seemed to mind.

"_Revan. It is good you have contacted us."_

"I was happy to do so, Master Vandar," Eva answered impassively.

Bastila listened intently as the conversation between her Master and the Enclave Masters continued. After a preliminary examination of Eva's handling of the Sandral-Matale feud, and subsequent calm approvals, they shared the information that they had pinpointed Juhani's location: a treeless clearing containing extensive stone ruins, often used by the resident Jedi as a meditation grove. Upon hearing Eva's query as to who had been chosen to retrieve the errant Padawan, the Masters stunned her by replying that the task reclined on her own shoulders. Eva argued as strenuously as she could without incurring reprimand, but to no avail. Up to the moment the communication was cut, they were adamant: Eva was to deal with Juhani. End comment.

"Don't worry, Eva. They have faith in you," repeated Carth ironically as Eva clenched her fists and turned red.

"Misguided, but touching," Eva scowled.

Carth reached his hand out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her pacing. "Look, we'll discuss this together, try and go about it the best way. If we have to take her out, then that's what we'll do, but whatever we do, we'll try and do it together. Perhaps Bastila may be the better choice for the main protagonist."

Bastila swung her head sharply at his pronouncement. "I?"

Eva nodded slowly, her anger having dissipated with a speed that was eerie. "Perhaps … Bastila is a fair hand at swordplay, and she could run a rudimentary version of battle meditation on herself and Juhani without too much trouble. She's young, but she could probably get her points across forcefully."

Bastila felt a thrill of excitement run through her body. "I should try to turn her back, guide her towards the light?"

Eva concurred with a half-grin. "It won't be easy, but you're definitely determined enough. I'll be there if you need me, but I'll try and stay out of it unless it's obvious you could use some help. Yes, this would be the better plan. After all, you're not that far off from taking your trials."

Eyes wide, Bastila felt her cheeks blush at the unaccustomed praise. "You think I'm ready?"

"Well, I don't know," Eva said honestly. "Admittedly, I've not put you in the way of proving yourself ready. You have rough edges but who doesn't? The next few missions, I'll make sure you get the exposure necessary. This is going to mean that you will be under constant surveillance. Can you handle that?"

"When have I not been watched and spied upon?" Bastila exclaimed hotly.

Eva's expression dimmed. "That was not the response I was hoping for. But I won't make snap judgements. You're going to have to suffer the fact that you're my first prospective successful Padawan and I'm going to be extra careful because of that."

Bastila looked at Eva with somewhat more than her usual gratitude. "Just having the goal there to reach… I will do my best, Master." In the fullness of the moment, Bastila bowed to Eva.

Carth broke the silence when it was evident to him that there were no more words to be said. "I think our best strategy would be to surprise, not being the surprised. That worked badly for us last time, but if we have prior warning and can work together in concert, I think we'll have a fighting chance."

"If she's in that meditation grove, it's a cinch she's probably meditating. We can probably sneak up on her with some Jedi stealth techniques. That ought to help our fighting chances," Eva surmised.

Carth grimaced. "I'd rather not count on such unconventional tactics. In the Fleet, we…"

"Probably count on your strong points, which are not in the Force," Eva interrupted him, causing him to sigh in frustration. "The Force is Bastila's and my shield, our strength. Take that away, and we're really not much."

After a moment of inner wrestling, Carth agreed unwillingly, "We'll do it your way, for the time being."

"I can engage Juhani's mind to the exclusion of everything else. If she is the source of the kath hounds' unusual violence, that will break the mind-link and they should be much less dangerous," Bastila contributed.

Eva shook her head. "Let's not count on that. I would have trouble trying to link my mind to all of theirs, and as far as I can recall, Juhani was training to be a Guardian, primarily fighting, to protect and guard. The more esoteric uses of the Force such as mind manipulation should be completely foreign to her."

"That's a mystery you really want to solve, isn't it?" Carth asked, his interest piqued.

"Heck, yes. Just imagine Dark Jedi with such a power, able to command the beasts roaming outside of the towns. He can coordinate them into troops and focus them on certain attack zones. On planets with thriving local fauna, he could have almost unlimited reinforcements. And different types of beasts! We're lucky we only have kath hounds to worry about. There are some nasty predators on Dantooine, like the Grauls or the stalker lizards. Good grief, you could even cause havoc with the carnivorous snails if you had enough of them."

"Or the laigreks," Bastila noted. "They prefer to keep to isolated areas underground, but if you could control them, you'd have an army of giant fire-breathing insects, capable of burrowing through and under barriers, and more than capable of killing almost anything they encounter."

Carth looked at Bastila, and then back at Eva. "What other man-eating species do I have to watch out for while I'm on this planet?"

Eva grinned back at him. "Well, one of my personal favourites are voritor lizards. Two metres long, aggressive, spiky and poisonous. They'll fit right in to any number of nightmares."

"The huurtons are vicious and quite dangerous, though smaller than the kath hounds," Bastila noted.

"And you've already met our kinrath," Eva said, smirking unrepentantly at him.

"And why isn't this place teeming with hunters?" Carth asked sceptically.

"Dantooine doesn't encourage such riff-raff," Eva scoffed, complete with an approximation of Bastila's accent. "We have an _Enclave_ here."

"So far," Bastila explained, pausing to glare mildly at her Master, "both the settlers of Dantooine and the Jedi of the Enclave concur with the philosophy of preserving and working with the current balance of nature here. Dantooine might be poorer economically for the lack of tourists, but we are much richer ecologically. The balance of nature has never been tampered with here."

"Until now, with the kath hounds," Carth pointed out.

"Which just proves that this situation is even more serious than appears at first," Bastila continued. "If the kath hounds, a significant predator here on Dantooine, are shifted out of the delicate order of things maintained here on Dantooine for thousands of years, then it impacts all the other species of fauna and flora. Patterns that have taken eons to establish are damaged, and then heretofore unforeseen events can come into occurrence. The sooner we can resolve this unnatural incident, the sooner the Dantooine ecosystem can get back to normal."

Eva shrugged apologetically at Carth. "She just really, _really_ loves Dantooine."

**(&X&)**

Kneeling on the cold flagstone floor of the largest ruin in the meditation grove, the Cathar Force User flexed her muscles and reached again for the dark influence in the atmosphere, trying to fill the empty parts of her soul. Feelings of bitterness and regret flashed into malignant hatred and rage, and the drive for revenge for her pain blotted out all previous feelings of hopelessness and unworthiness. She let the power wash over her skin, warming the very fibres of her physique, as if she was basking in the sun. All life-forms needed a purpose to grow and evolve, and this was now the only way left to her.

The kath hounds gathered near, sniffing the air as if they could actually smell the Dark Side. Perhaps they could pick up pheromones she exuded under its influence – either way, they accepted her in a way she had never been before in her short life. Perhaps she was as much a beast as the inhabitants of Taris, her old homeworld, had accused her of being. She had briefly hoped to be something better, higher, but that idea was now dust and ashes. She had destroyed that all by herself, and now was becoming as she was meant to be: a predator. After all, that was how life was, yes? Beasts ate beasts; they struggled, killing and dying. Any pretension of higher purposes was merely fooling oneself.

The Cathar bent once again to the ground, her words whispered into the stone close to her cheek. "Dark Force, consume me. I know of nothing else."

She had prostrated herself for several hours before she took note of stirring amongst the hounds. Attuned as she was to their ways, she instinctively knew something had disturbed them – and that she would be wise to take note of that. Agilely rising to her feet in a single smooth action, she was startled to see a single figure, standing alone in the middle of the grove. She knew that figure.

Bastila Shan, Padawan to Jedi Master Revan. Youngest wielder of Battle Meditation, bright young star of the Jedi Order. It was as if the Cathar saw everything she had formerly aspired to be. Surprise and puzzlement held her still. After all this time of silence, this was who the Jedi sent to kill her? This, their single hope for the Sith War?

"Juhani," Bastila began.

The quiet, cultured voice triggered a most passionate response from the Cathar. Juhani's eyes flashed up, hate glinting from their yellow depths, as passionate rage bubbled up from her innermost self and radiated from her body, as she screamed, "I will destroy you!"

Quickly, Bastila unclipped and lit her lightsaber, bringing the double blade forward to meet Juhani's own swiftly stabbing weapon. "Why are you doing this?" Bastila asked clearly, her mind focussed on the tasks of fighting Juhani with actions and conversation as well as running the rudimentary Battle Meditation Eva had suggested. Juhani answered with an inarticulate shriek of rage. Well, so much for that plan.

The two young Jedi fought at a blistering pace. Juhani was clearly the aggressor, with Bastila using only defensive moves and conserving her energy, letting the out of control Cathar spend herself uselessly against Bastila's excellent resistance. Neither paid any attention to the two figures crouched behind a towering rock, weapons ready at hand if the kath hounds decided to get aggressive again.

"She's holding up well," Carth muttered to Eva as he kept his eyes glued to the fighting Jedi. "The Cathar is powerful and skilled, but too uncontrolled to break through Bastila's defence."

"Defence is Bastila's strong-point in swordplay," Eva nodded, her attention fixed on the milling hounds. "She also has the benefit of years more training than Juhani. Juhani has less than six years of Jedi Training."

"I think Juhani's weakening," Carth alerted Eva after a moment.

"I sense her feeling weary, even starved," Eva agreed. "She must not have been taking care of her needs since she left."

"Have you got a fix on what she's doing to the hounds yet?"

Eva sighed in frustration. "Well, I know that what's affecting them is certainly not from Juhani's origin. There is a darkness about the grove, but I cannot tell if that is Juhani's influence or something else. The hounds themselves feel tainted. I'm not any closer to finding the source than before."

"Time to implement phase two, then," Carth shrugged, rising to a half crouched position and moving around the base of the rocks to approach the two padawans unseen. Eva gave him two minutes before she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and strode out more or less fearlessly towards the fighting duo.

Juhani's eyes narrowed in rage and frustration as she noted the Jedi Master approaching her. The ridiculously naïve Padawan they had sent had failed to kill her yet, so they sent in another to make sure of the job. Very well, then. She would make sure she wouldn't die easily.

"Juhani," pleaded Bastila, irritatingly fresh even after their prolonged battle, "there is no need for violence. We merely wish…"

"Silence! I will not die easily, fool!" Juhani retorted harshly. She momentarily disengaged Bastila's yellow blade, her own pathetically blue saber waving aggressively at both Bastila and Eva. "This is MY grove! The place of my dark power! Power enough to crush the likes of you, both of you!"

To Juhani's astonishment, Eva folded her arms across her chest, dangling her unlit saber in a limp handhold. "You are one troubled Padawan."

Juhani hesitated a moment out of sheer disbelief. That was all it took; a moment and then she grunted and slid to her knees, her lightsaber falling from her fingers and deactivating as she groggily attempted to prevent herself from meeting the ground in a face plant. Behind her, Carth holstered the blaster he had used to pistol-whip her, and deftly retrieved the fallen lightsaber from the ground.

"Is she badly hurt?" Bastila asked conscientiously, placing her hands on Juhani's shoulders and guiding her into a slumped sitting position.

"She might have a minor concussion," Eva shrugged, searching Juhani's ragged figure for concealed weapons. "It's better than being dead or having a few limbs amputated."

"What…" Juhani slurred, her yellow catlike eyes blinking slowly as she tried to unscramble her brains. "You…"

"Take it easy, there," Eva cautioned. "You don't want to upchuck all over Bastila. Then there _would_ be war."

"Master!" Bastila hissed, gently pressing Juhani back to lay against the grass, just in case. "Juhani is confused. Let's not make it worse."

"Good point," Eva conceded. She raised her eyes to Carth and grinned triumphantly. "See? Unconventional battle plans work."

"I still think it's a good thing you're not in the Fleet," Carth returned mildly.

Eva kneeled beside Juhani, gingerly pressing her fingers into Juhani's temples. "She's crackling with despair and dark energy. I wouldn't have thought it possible…" she paused, and studied Juhani's features meditatively. "What happened to you, Padawan?"

"She is a member of a primitive race," Bastila stated, "Perhaps her feelings are less governable. From our limited contact, I know she had major personality issues."

"Cathar are not primitive," Eva replied shortly, "they're just more aggressively driven. Or at least they were – they're an endangered species now."

Juhani stirred against her hands.

"Take it easy," Eva repeated, centring herself and sending delicate traces of Force to heal the concussive injuries in Juhani's brain. As she worked, Juhani's gaze became more clear, her features less slack. When Eva had finished, Juhani was alert and clear-eyed, but remained impassively still.

Leaning back, Eva met Juhani's eyes and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"How do you mean?" Juhani asked wearily, "physically, emotionally, mentally?"

"Let's start with physically," Eva decided calmly. "I tried to heal the damage we caused you, but you seem to be a bit run down. Are you hungry? If you're starving enough, I think we have some nutrient bars that may help."

"I am… well," Juhani conceded slowly. "I suffer from nothing that some rest will not undo."

"Good. We do not wish harm on you," Eva emphasised.

"I do not understand," Juhani said after a moment.

Carth made an interesting noise. Juhani lifted herself into a sitting position and skewed herself around, glancing at him. "Who is this?"

"Commander Carth Onasi of the Republic Fleet," Carth offered impassively.

Juhani's eyes widened fractionally. She was calm enough to recall that in principle, Jedi did not execute their prisoners. The Republic was not so choosy.

"You say you wish no harm on me. What is it that you intend to do with me? Drag me back to the Council? Turn me over to Republic interrogators? Kill me now, for I can never be turned back," Juhani said fatalistically.

"Really. You're that evil," Eva said, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

"I am lost. I have perpetrated unforgivable crimes. I can never go back," Juhani shrugged.

"That's crap," Eva said scornfully. Juhani swelled with indignation. "Just what are those unforgivable things you have done?"

"I killed my Master," Juhani said simply.

"No, you didn't. Quatra is alive and, well, alive. She's left for Coruscant to instruct swordsmanship classes," Eva informed her.

"You lie!"

Eva snorted in derision. "You're a Jedi, Juhani. You know when someone's lying and when someone is telling the truth."

"You…" Juhani struggled for words.

"You cannot escape the truth, Juhani," Eva shrugged. "Do you want to hear what I think happened? Your master, in all her limited wisdom, provoked you beyond what you could bear and pretended to be killed by you, in an attempt to make you face up to your weaknesses. So you ran out here like an injured animal and decided that if you weren't good, you had to be bad. That was a massive case of oversimplification and you need to realise that. If you come back with us, the most the Council will do is give you a stern talking to and direct you into a few anger management meditation classes."

"You laugh at me," Juhani said lowly, scowling at the ground. "You always laughed at me."

"Juhani, if there was one thing I failed you most in the limited time you were my Padawan, it was failing to teach you that you took yourself and everyone else around you too seriously. You think in black and white, right or wrong. Jedi are prone to that, but you must have been born like it. When you were rescued from Taris, you were in a white-hot fervor to prove that you were worth saving. You never realised that you already were, that you never needed to prove it."

Startled, Juhani looked up at Eva with her golden eyes wide. "What did you say?"

Eva matched her gaze and stated clearly, "You were worth saving. And as my friends and I plotted a scheme to save you from yourself, we obviously think you are worth saving yet."

Juhani wrested herself up from the ground with an anguished cry and grabbed for an upright rock pillar, trembling violently. "But I am… I did… why did you…"

"You obviously felt you were condemned when you believed yourself Quatra's murderer," Eva said, still kneeling in her position on the ground. "It troubles me that you felt you had no one to turn to. I had hoped Quatra's methods, radically different from mine, would have helped you to be less isolated than you have always been."

"I think I truly loved her," Juhani choked against the pillar.

"Oh," Eva said, taken aback. She flashed a startled glance at Bastila, who had suddenly lost her pitying look and now looked horrified.

"But it truly is too late. I have fallen, and dark power courses through my veins. I can never be turned back," Juhani repeated wearily.

"Perhaps if I tell you my own personal understanding of the Force, you may see things differently," Eva began cautiously.

"I doubt it," Juhani sighed.

"Nevertheless," Eva contended gently, "The Force can be harnessed two ways. One way is to concentrate from a calm mind, to meditate and bring it into a workable form without the use of emotions. This is the Jedi way. The second, to use one's emotions, good or bad, to fuel their control in the Force, is the Sith way. Neither is categorically evil, but the second is much more risky. If the emotions used are tainted with hate, jealousy, anger, any of those potentially negative emotions, the Force is similarly tainted. In your despair, the Force you have been generating has been twisted. It is not the pure Force you are used to.

"Take the Force out of the equation. If you are used to feeling those negative emotions, eventually your personality is changed negatively. It's plain and simple. Live a live of hate, and you won't be called a saint.

"But introduce the Force to that, and your personality changes further, changing faster and deepening those emotions. If you were a moderately angry person before, the Force can change you into a vicious, bloodthirsty creature. It is why Jedi strive so hard to resist and counteract those defects of personality, so they are not vulnerable. But if you don't recognise your weaknesses, how can you resist? How can you counteract?"

Eva struggled upright and moved over towards Juhani, leaning back against a neighbouring pillar. "You have been changed by the Force, Juhani. You are not the person you were. But it is possible to change back. You need to be aware of your weaknesses, and be more vigilant than most, but if you have learnt your lesson, you can still be an incredible Jedi. I don't promise that it will be easy. It won't. You're a vibrant person, with a temper easily lost. But it is possible. And, if you want, I will help you."

Juhani stayed silent, her thoughts ticking over. Finally, she turned around, and there was a flicker of hope evident in her eyes. "I can arrest my fall? I can reverse it?"

"You can," Eva corroborated.

"You will help me?" Juhani wondered, her hands flexing at her sides. "You would do that?"

"I would," Eva nodded. "Of course, if you can't help but remember our previous failure together, I could also arrange for you to be tutored by someone else, if that suits you better."

Juhani's eyes blinked as she considered this offering. "No. I do not hold the illusion that anyone else will be as understanding. Perhaps it was my own faults that sabotaged our working relationship before. I… could not understand your sense of humour, especially after what I had seen on Taris. I think I can understand it more now."

"Let me make that particular foible of mine completely clear to you, Juhani," Eva suggests. "The worse I feel, the more I joke. It's both a coping and cloaking mechanism. I understand how unfeeling it can look."

Juhani inclined her head. "I …understand. Somewhat."

Eva shrugged. "That's a start. Come, eat this," she gestured with a nutrient bar in her hand. "You wouldn't think so, but you'll feel better after you eat it. It's a bit chewy, though."

As Juhani reluctantly took the processed comestible and worried at it with her sharpened Cathar teeth, Carth drew over to Eva.

"We're not finished here, Eva. What about the kath hounds?"

Juhani looked up. "I have been living with the pack for some days now. If you have queries, perhaps I can enlighten you. I hope that would be a praiseworthy effort."

"It's a step in the right direction," Eva commented. "Do you notice anything weird about the kath hounds, Juhani? You've been on Dantooine for six or so years. What is different about them now?"

Bastila spoke up before Juhani had a chance to finish chewing her mouthful. "I can state with absolute certainty that they have never been this aggressive, or this strategically minded."

Juhani flicked glances at the three humans in front of her. "They are strange, dark. Perhaps… perhaps I infected them with my wickedness," she admitted at last, her throat even drier than was warranted by the unappetising fare.

It was with relief that Juhani noted Eva's head shake negatively. "That cannot be. You would have to have the power and malevolence of a Sith Master, and I didn't sense that concentration within you. You would also have to be actively channelling the Force into the beasts, and that requires knowledge of the ancient arts that you know nothing of. It's got me stumped."

Juhani's brow furrowed with hard thinking. "I am not sure, but – in my darkest moments, just after my … mistake, I think I was in a place of darkness. True darkness. I remember the dark shapes of animals moving about me, soaking it up. I think… I think it was underground. I smelt the earth above me."

"But Dantooine is a place of Jedi Light!" Bastila objected. "There are no such places here!"

"Not that I'm all that sure of what you all are talking about here," Carth interrupted, "but I'm pretty sure you haven't seen all the corners of this planet, Bastila."

Eva's hand brushed her chin, one finger over her lips as she thought. She exhaled noticeably just before she began to speak. "I want you all to stay in one spot. Try not to move or talk. It will only be for a short while. No matter what, don't come near me."

Carth's arm shot out to stop her. "And just what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to try to connect to a kath hound's mind. I need you to provide no distractions and no added alarm."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eva."

"At the moment, it's the only one that occurs to me," Eva responded with finality, moving past him and slowly approaching a small gathering of kath hounds. When she was some metres off from them, they started to bristle with aggression. She stopped immediately, and settled herself into the grass in a meditation position. She built on the instinctually suppressing whirl of Force around her, adding prods towards friendliness and curiosity, and enlarged it until it touched the closest kath hound. Drawn in by her arts, the canine stepped forward hesitantly, pausing to sense the wind and scan the visible landscape, twitching its rounded ears. Eva strengthened the pull of her compulsion trance, luring the creature forward till its massive shaggy head was easily within the reach of her hands. With gentle fingers, Eva touched either side of the hound's head and added more personal feelings of calm and interest, and softly built a telepathic bridge between the hound's consciousness and hers so that they could communicate on the most basic of levels.

Most animals think in pictures. Eva translated her thoughts into mental images and sent a few towards the hound, giving him plenty of time to digest the added mental stimuli. Slowly, the kath hound's answering thoughts flashed into her mind, a gradually building bank of pictures forming into a book that she could read with only a little difficulty. There was a little dark energy lingering in the beast's brain, but it seemed to be fading, incapable of building or even sustaining its malignant level of strength without a source.

According to the hound, several suns ago he had slept in the large stone burrow that lured kath hounds from all over the plains. Eva noted the pictures in order, a picture of the clear cloudless sky, sign of a cold night to come. A hole in the side of a cliff, opened by a landslide. A dark stone cave passage, visually blank but informationally rich with associated feelings of touch, feel, and other senses. The kath hound had not associated the burrow with the strange feelings he and the others of his pack had felt, but he had noted, in a dim sort of way, that they had been acting unnaturally. Finally, he communicated that the same feeling that had come over him in the cave was present in a weak way when he had been close to the strange female predator who had accompanied his pack for some time. That intoxicating feeling, coupled with an instinctual disinclination to provoke a fight with a perceivably dangerous entity, had granted Juhani free reign within the kath hound pack.

Somewhere in there, the kath hound sent pictures of a mangled protocol droid. Oops, Eva thought. Poor C8. At least he didn't have to go back to his abusive Mistress. Eva felt a nagging feeling of guilt and self-reprimand. She made a promise she didn't keep. She tamped down the feelings of hopelessness with the old reliable resolution of doing better in the future.

Eva communicated her satisfaction back to the hound, who accepted it and a scratch behind his ears as she let the telepathic link dissolve slowly. A perfunctory swipe of a rough tongue against her cheek later, the kath hound turned and made his way back to his previous post. Eva dusted her leggings off as she regained her feet and returned to Carth, Bastila and Juhani, the set of her brow reflecting her thoughts roiling busily inside her brain.

Carth discreetly released his breath and removed his hands from his blasters. It had unnerved him to see Eva so prone and seemingly helpless before the fearsome predator, especially when he knew from personal experience just how dangerous the kath hounds were. Add to that his extremely shaky faith in Jedi powers, and it had been a difficult quarter-hour for him. He rolled his shoulders against impending stiffness and missed Juhani's appraising eyes following his actions.

As Eva reached her companions, she spoke before any questions could be directed at her. "Juhani, I think it would be best if we returned to the Enclave now. I shall accompany you there and we can approach the Council together."

Juhani nodded once, her leonine features contracting into an expression of polite confusion. "Did you receive the answers you sought from the beast?"

"I think so. I must meditate on this." Well, it sounded enough like the sort of thing a Jedi Master would say to her Padawan so that Juhani would not question her further. Eva had not felt the second-hand pull of the dark side from the kath hound's mind for a minute before she knew she had to prevent the vulnerable Cathar from encountering such darkness, at least for the foreseeable future. Of course, this answer got a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving expression from the Republic commander.

It would be some time getting back to the Enclave at their walking pace. Eva knew she had a few more things to communicate to Juhani before she could safely return to the Enclave, but felt a little apprehensive about Juhani's possible reactions. Nevertheless, she quietly and dispassionately revealed Taris' destruction to the astounded Padawan who had some difficulty believing that Taris could have been so destroyed, and then that Malak had done it. Other than that, Eva was relieved to note, Juhani was fairly subdued about it. Of course, this could lead to a temperamental blow-up in the future, but Eva counted on having the mental fortitude to deal with it then, as she had completely run out of that sort of patience for the present.

"Master?" Bastila's unusually concerned voice cut through her ruminations.

"Yes, Bastila?" Eva's voice was placid, unlike her thoughts.

"Are you feeling well? Your jaw is relaxed, but your forehead is contracted." Hmm. Eva had never considered Bastila to be that perceptive.

"She has a point, Eva," Carth contributed. "Have you got a headache from the hound? There must be a significant difference in the respective thought processes."

"It's nothing to be concerned with," Eva replied firmly.

"I thought you were going to keep me in the loop," Carth pointed out stubbornly.

Eva allowed an expression of unalloyed annoyance to surface on her face. "It is of no importance!"

"I disagree," Carth said implacably.

"Master, it is obvious something is troubling you," Bastila stated, a slightly pompous tone to her voice. "It would serve us better to have you untroubled and ready for whatever faces us."

Eva's lips thinned down, but she saw that Carth and Bastila had no intention of giving up. Juhani, following behind, obviously didn't feel worthy to interrupt, but she was eagerly listening. Eva's subsequently sub-violent thoughts alerted her to the fact that they were partially right – she was not her usual self. With a bracing draught of air in her lungs, she abruptly started to explain, trying to work it out in her head and speech simultaneously.

"Over the years, I have witnessed what the dark side can do. I've seen some very ugly things. The situation now, I guess, is that those events have conditioned me to recall these incidents with distressing clarity when I come in contact with dark side energy. Perhaps if there had been time, I could have meditated properly and calmed myself, but I feel that time is of more importance at this time than my emotional wellbeing. I can meditate before I go to sleep."

"You mean, you get flashbacks? Like post-traumatic stress disorder?" Carth asked knowledgeably. Of course, he would know about those sort of things.

"Similar, I guess," Eva shrugged. "Feelings of nausea, discomfort. It depends on what I remember."

Bastila looked at her Master with something similar to compassion. "To be reminded of such things… I saw bad things on Taris. Massacres."

"There are worse things," Eva said darkly. At Carth's inquiring glance, she clarified. "Once I stumbled across a Sith orgy. Pale grey corrupted body parts and shiny bald heads… you cannot believe the gross out factor, even without the sound effects."

The entire group shuddered with disgust, particularly Juhani, who had previously felt a pull towards the dark side. However, she felt that if Eva were to impart a few more such anecdotes about the dark side, her draw towards the dark power would be completely obliterated.

**(&X&)**

As it turned out, Juhani was determined to face the Council by herself. She explained anxiously to Eva that it wasn't a reflection on their future relationship, but that she felt she had to ultimately face her mistakes by herself. Eva hadn't pressed the point.

After the lost Padawan had gone to the Council chambers, Zaalbar had turned up and began roaring at Bastila. He was upset that she had left without him to go into danger, and felt that she didn't respect the life-debt, thus bringing dishonour to him. Bastila naturally felt quite put out at this, because she hadn't asked for the life-debt and thought herself very magnanimous to put up with him as she did.

"Zaalbar, I'm sure Bastila had no idea we were to be away so long, or in any danger," Eva broke in on the potentially ugly situation. "As I recall, I summoned her directly from her meditations and she had no way of contacting you. I apologise sincerely for not taking your life-debt into account. I shall not forget it in the future."

"From the importance you Jedi put on your traditions, I would have expected more respect for mine," Zaalbar growled, "but I accept your apology. I must insist on being present in the future."

"My word on it," Eva replied simply. "By the way, where's the other two, Canderous and Mission? Do you know?"

"The Mandalorian has found a few Jedi willing to practise hand-to-hand combat with him in one of the training gyms," Zaalbar rumbled, "and I believe you will find Mission somewhere on the Enclave roof. She is getting very bored."

"Thank you," Eva nodded, and flipped her communicator on. "Mission? Could you meet us in the courtyard?"

"_Please tell me you have something for me to do! I'm actually thinking about taking up meditation, I'm so bored!_"

"I'd like to take you and Carth out with me on the plains. We'll take a speeder, and you can drive some of the way."

"_I'll be there."_

The rapidity with which the communication went dead made Eva smile before she walked over to Carth, who was waiting for his next orders with poorly concealed impatience.

"Okay, Carth, this is what we're up against." Quickly, Eva explained to him that she believed that they were going to head into a nexus of dark side power. She was unaware of the precise nature of the place, but hoped to ascertain it upon observation. It was also the reason why she wanted no other trained Force users with her at the time. "I'm not immune to it myself, but I generally know how to handle myself in such situations. I don't know how Bastila would react, but I'm pretty sure we'd have more trouble with Juhani if we took her back there. It's possible you and Mission will be a little affected, but I doubt you'll lose your self control. That's pretty much all I know."

"Do you really think it's wise to go, then?" Carth asked sceptically.

"Carth, this is what is affecting the hounds. We need to know what it is, and then we can decide how to nullify it."

Some time later, they were being driven erratically towards their target site by a rather gleeful Mission. Carth held on to the side with a white knuckled grip and tried to distract himself with more conversation with Eva.

"There's a question that occurs to me: why hasn't anyone found this before?"

Eva shrugged. "This hole that the kath hounds entered seems to have been opened by a landslide. It's possible that it opened an air pocket in the earth. We don't really know that much of Dantooine's ancient history. It could be anything from a burial chamber to a partially collapsed pre-historic building. We won't know till we get there."

Great, Carth thought. Another situation normal, all fracked up.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Don't you just love Wookieepedia? I got all the Dantooine species from there. I really am quite sorry at the wait for this. For a month, I lost my inspiration, and when it finally limped back to me, I couldn't get in the habit of writing again. Still, never once during that time, was I ever thinking that I'd never complete this. I will. It just might take me a while. I've almost finished two planets, that leaves what… five planets and a space station. I think I can do that.**

**I'm very interested to hear what you guys have to say about some of the ideas I put in here. Does it sound plausible, and why/why not? Sorry about the squicky image I may have put into your heads! I put it in as a bit of a joke. I mean, with the established side-effects well known, who in their right minds would choose to be a Sith? Disfigurement and insanity, anyone?**


	28. Obfuscation

**Chapter Twenty Eight:** **Obfuscation**

_Previously: After over-nighting at the Sandral Estate, our little group of Bastila, Carth and Eva were commanded to fetch Juhani. After a scuffle and some moralizing, Juhani agreed to return to the Jedi, and Eva asked a kath hound why they were acting so weirdly. The answer made her nervous, and after delivering Juhani and Bastila back to the Jedi Enclave, she picked up Carth and Mission and headed for the centre of the mystery._

Carth stepped onto the solid earth gratefully. After a moment of basking in his assured safety, he turned to Mission who was still in the driver's seat of the speeder and pointed an unerring finger at her. "I'm driving back. No arguments."

"Seems to me like you don't have a vote, this speeder belonging to the Jedi and all," Mission returned insouciantly, turning to look expectantly at Eva.

The Jedi Master was perhaps a touch greener in complexion than usual, but she answered Mission's unspoken query with tolerable calm. "Perhaps another time, Mission. Let's not make it too much of a good thing, as it were."

Mission scowled. If she'd known they were going to be so wussy, she would have driven the way her brother had taught her. It was plain to see that they didn't understand that getting there was half the fun. She started to smile. Watching Carth's face when she went through the narrow passage through the rocks at top speed _was _fun. That might actually be the highlight of her day.

Eva went to the back storage compartment of the speeder and began to pick out odds and ends. Handing a pair of mining visors to her companions, Eva tried to explain what they might be facing. "In that hole, there is a cavern. How big it is and where it leads, if anywhere, I don't know. All I know is that it holds a nexus of dark power."

Mission's brow furrowed as she looked enquiringly at Eva. "A nexus of power? What, is that a machine or something? And what does that mean for us non-Jedi?"

"A nexus of dark power is an area or object imbued with dark power, dark Force, that exudes dark power, and can make other things dark for a time, like a magnet and bits of metal. I don't know how it will work on you: the Force has a different way of working on each person. You may feel irritable, snappish, or suddenly feel fearful, violent. If you're feeling something negative, that's probably what it will be. I hope you can control yourself, and, both of you, if you feel you're getting out of control, tell me and we'll retreat. This is not something that should be played with."

"You know," Carth interrupted, "the more I hear you talk about this, the more I wonder why we just shouldn't blow up the cave and leave whatever it is under tons of dirt. What good can come about from investigating this?"

"Did you know we have Sith holocrons in the Jedi Archives?" Eva queried, with a lift of an eyebrow. "They're awful things, and we never use them, but we store them, because only then can we trust that they are staying out of the wrong hands. If we destroy the access to this, it doesn't protect anybody. In the future, sooner or later, someone will discover it and something terrible may happen."

"Just to recap," Mission sighed, "the big scary Force nexus thingy might give us the creeps. That's it? No scary Sith ghosts popping out of the stonework? Evil smoke making skull faces?"

Eva froze for a moment. "If you see any of those, turn around and get out immediately."

"Heh, you're kidding, right?" Mission laughed.

"Ah, yes, of course. There could be bad gas in there, however, and if you do see something strange, you're probably having hallucinations. It would be best if you got out immediately if that happens," Eva said airily, digging in the speeder compartment again.

"Sounds like fun," commented Carth darkly. "Just so you know: if you hear a high pitched scream… it'll be Mission."

"Hey!" Mission objected.

"I'm sure Carth's scream is much more deep and manly," Eva jibed good-naturedly.

Eva began placing the small objects she had found inside the pockets of her robes. Lastly, she took a tiny box from the compartment and placed it on the ground, unwinding the small wires coming out from it and, lifting a flap on the speeder, connected it to the power source. "It's just a sonic disrupter, to make sure no kath hounds sneak into the hole after us. Or anything else, for that matter." She caught Carth's somewhat surprised gaze. "What? The Force can't do everything, you know."

Mission strode confidently to the gaping hole in the cliff. She waited impatiently as Eva and Carth took their time following her, and almost walked in by herself. Somehow, the lack of light from the hole seemed harmless until one was right up against it, looking in as if at an abyss. Whatever was in there was unknowable, and Mission, brave explorer of the Undercity, felt that in this case discretion would be the better part of valour.

As Carth eased a blaster out of a holster and into his hand, Eva sighed and unclipped her lightsaber, holding it in her palm. "Just… be ready for anything. Like I said, if you see something impossible, or feel unlike yourself, go outside immediately. You do not have the knowledge to deal with this."

They flipped their visors down; their now enhanced vision picking out the details; a stone floor almost covered by the fine dust of ages, dappled with the prints of countless kath hound paws. The walls were stone, hacked out from virgin rock. Stepping carefully through the entrance, they were able to straighten up; the stone ceiling of the cave was a fair few feet above them, hung sporadically with webs spun by unseen arachnids. Here and there they avoided a few fresh animal skeletons picked clean.

"This is not natural," Carth mumbled, running his eyes over the visible structure of the cavern. The sides were carved out, with clear designs on bulbous pillars holding the massive weight of the soil above. A long horizontal rectangular hole led to another room, with another beyond it. They stayed in the centre room, arrested by the sight of two doors.

"Definitely not," Eva agreed, trying to ignore the frissons of discomfort curling around her spine. She could feel the edges of dark power stroking the air around her, just light touches for now. As a Jedi Master, she had the authority to investigate this without prior notification from the Council, but she wondered now at the wisdom of this course. She tried to comfort herself with the reflection that she had taken along two of the stubbornest people she knew; neither one would submit to the persuasion of the Force without a fight. She calmed a little; somehow, it was very easy to take comfort in Carth's presence.

Picking a door, Eva ran a gentle hand over the carvings and sought the catch. Activating it with the slight touch of the Force, the stone ground against itself and the door broke into long strips, disappearing into the roof and floor.

Suddenly Eva drew in a gasping breath and threw her arms out, blocking Mission and Carth from going any further. What had seemed to be merely another strange sculpture began to move, as evidenced by the falling sheets of dust. Mission squeaked as the arachnoid shape waved a few legs and moved towards them. Hastily, the trio prepared for battle.

A booming cadence issued from the figure – now revealed to be a robot of unknown make and origin. Her fear overridden by her professional curiosity, Eva stepped forward and appraised the droid.

"I don't know that language," she said clearly. It was like nothing she'd ever heard, a strange, resonant tone, commanding yet somewhat musical.

The droid paused. Then it started again, this time in tones wildly different from before. The yelling and belching hardly seemed like a language at all, but Eva assumed it was anyway.

"I don't know that one either. I speak Standard," she informed the impassive droid, which had fallen silent after its discordant solo.

Another language: not Galactic Standard, however. Eva frowned as a few synapses in her brain took their own sweet time to fire; she knew this language, she was sure of it… hmmm… oh, there it is! Selkath! It was a Selkath dialect – a little strange to her mind, but Force only knew how long the droid had been here.

"That's Selkath!" she exclaimed to her companions.

"Selkath? What is a Selkath droid doing on Dantooine?" Carth asked.

"Ask it that, Eva!" Mission prodded.

"No, wait, what did it say?" Carth asked.

"It said something about builders and slaves. It took me a while to get my brain into gear," she apologised.

"Will it answer your questions?" Carth queried.

Feeling a little annoyed at the contortions she had to put her mouth and tongue through to enunciate the proper sounds, she dug in some forgotten sections of her mind to find the right sentence structure and words. She'd never actually been to Manaan, the Selkath homeworld.

"State your function and purpose," she ordered, wondering if the droid speak she knew would be acceptable to this alien machine.

"_I am the Overseer,_" the droid replied in the sibilant, rasping sounds of the Selkath. "_It was my task to see that the slaves who built this monument to the greatness of the Builders accomplished their tasks, and once finished, that they were disposed of. My purpose now is to safeguard the secrets of the Temple from the unworthy, and guide the Worthy in their quest."_

After she had finished explaining the droid's answer in Standard to her companions, she talked to the droid for some time more, trying to ferret out any information she could. Apart from the admittedly unlikely fact that it was built by an Empire, not the Selkath; was 20,000 years old, and safeguarded the information about the Star Forge, whatever the hell that was, there was not much the droid could tell her. She asked it to elaborate on the defences of the tomb – it refused, and merely said that there were safeguards installed in the tomb itself to ensure that the unworthy did not find out what they did not deserve.

"Why don't you ask it who it's last visitor was?" Mission asked after a while.

"Good idea," agreed Eva, who promptly asked the droid the question.

The spider-like droid's answer was moderately disquieting. "_The last one who came here and proved worthy was neither Builder nor slave, but like you." _The droid also rattled off a figure of time that made Eva's head work.

"Four to five years ago," Eva finally decided, then aligned it with her internal galaxy timeline. "Sometime before the Sith Wars…" her voice trailed off as a connection fired in her brain. Before the Sith Wars, indeed.

"Can you show me a representation of this last worthy one?" Eva demanded, not knowing whether the robot was capable of holo technology.

Without further vocal communication, the robot proved its holo capacity, beaming out a red representation of a tall, brawny man… dressed in stylised Jedi robes. Recognition was instantaneous.

"Malak," scowled Carth. "I saw him once during the Mandalorian Wars," he explained sourly.

"Darth Malak was here?" Mission squealed. Her enthusiasm shocked even her, so she decided to explain. "I mean, this has to have something to do with the War, doesn't it? This could help bring him down?"

"It must, and might," Eva forced from her bloodless lips. "This last one gained information from inside?"

"_He was proved worthy. He gained access to the secrets of the Builders. Only those who are worthy can do so."_

"Malak was here and received information from this temple," Eva stated, grateful the mining visors couldn't reveal her pallor. "We can't turn back now. We need to know what he found."

"Agreed," Carth said firmly. Taking out his blasters and fingering the settings, he took control of the situation. "The droid said the temple has its own safeguards, right? And it's too old to have lifeforms still within, so it must be mechanical. Droids and possibly gas traps, mines, and things of that sort."

Eva nodded distractedly, before fisting her hands and forcing herself to calm down. "Okay. I'm in first, as melee, Carth as firepower and backup, and Mission is our sweeper for mines and electronics. Supposing that this technology is anything like ours…"

"And seeing as the chance of Dantooine hicks observing your fantastic use of the Force is minimal to none," Carth pointed out, "you should use all the tricks at your disposal."

Eva half-smiled. "No problem."

With a spittle flying directive to the droid to start the tests, Eva lit her lightsaber and grasped it in both hands as she prepared for the first door in the T-junction room to open. Half a breath later, she galvanised into action to find… nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. There were two or so trashed droids in a corner. She almost thanked Malak in her head, before shuddering and crossing to the other side of the room, where there was a computer console. The questions were ludicrously easy, something not even Malak, who had disliked written exams, could mess up. Supposedly, these tests were designed to test one's physical and mental acuity, but so far Eva felt she could have done it in a coma.

"Well, that was an anticlimax," Mission grumbled.

"Don't speak too soon," Carth warned her. "The enemy may try to lull us into a false sense of security."

"What, that rusty old thing?" Mission scoffed as she headed for the other door.

"Mission!" Carth warned loudly.

"Fine!" Mission sighed in exasperation. "Honestly, you'd think you'd want to get this over with as quickly as possible, you know."

"We do," answered Eva, who had finished up with the dead easy three questions on the console and completed that room, "staying alive, Mission, is the best way to do that."

"I'll bet on it," Mission said stubbornly, "sixty credits you won't find any robots in there that aren't a pile of scrap. Come on, after twenty thousand years, the Overseer is lucky it isn't a scummy mound of rust."

"Soldiers who underestimate the enemy have a tendency of winding up dead," Carth noted.

"Good thing I'm not a soldier then," Mission replied, rolling her eyes.

Eva walked over to the next door, hesitating before it. Carth's paranoia seemed to have infected her somewhat. He was supposed to be boosting her confidence, dammit, not leeching it! With a groan, she rocked back on her heels and closed her eyes, controlled her breathing and reached out with the Force, trying to see what was on the other side of that door. She sensed…

Without opening her eyes, she drawled, "I'll take that bet, Mission."

"Well, shoot," the blue Twi'lek muttered, "I'll just win it back from you later."

Nodding once at Carth, Eva triggered the catch on the door, her lightsaber out and humming. Short beams of energy were hurled at her from a robot similar to the Overseer – more than that, she had no time to observe as she ran around to the side, letting instinct guide her lightsaber in blocking the blaster fire. The darned thing could fire at two directions at once, pinning Carth and Mission behind the wall. Eva had just enough time to question the astuteness of her position when the droid began to rise on its four spider-like legs, springing at her in a combination of blaster shots and blunt force threats. Eva dodged around a pillar or two and over a pile of rusting parts, avoiding the jabbing extensions and bouncing the laser shots back at its hardened steel body.

The droid paused for a moment when Carth interrupted, sending well aimed shots impacting the droid's back. Momentarily distracted and sending returning fire, the droid let up on its fire at Eva who took the advantage and extended a hand blazing with raw electricity. The energy tore through the droid's circuits, causing it to freeze in position as its innards burned and gave off acrid smoke. Eva plunged her lightsaber into the heart of the metallic beast, cutting it in half and then poking at it for good measure. Uh huh, it was well and truly dead.

With a snap, Eva turned off her blade. "That was… intense."

"That was the coolest thing ever," Mission grinned as she walked over to the Jedi. "You lit up the room with your lightning!"

"Shock, Mission," Eva corrected her tiredly. "Jedi shock, Sith lightning."

"What's the difference?"

"Shock is what the Jedi use against droids. Lightning is what the Sith use against sentients."

"You know, the more you tell me, the more the Jedi seem nit-picky."

"Overseer, have we proven ourselves worthy, or are there yet more tests to be endured?" Eva asked the ancient droid as crankily as she could without dribbling.

"_You have proven yourselves worthy of knowing the secrets of the Builders. Enter into the centre chamber to reach the objective,_" the droid affirmed.

The centre portal behind the Overseer shuddered and slowly came apart with a drawn out grinding noise. Eva recoiled as an almost palpable wave of negative Force flowed through the gap, scalding her senses and whispering dark things into her mind.

"Bloody hell," she panted, eyes wide. "What the frack is in there?!"

Both Carth and Mission shivered, though the cave's temperature hadn't changed. "Why do I feel like bugs are crawling over my skin?" Mission quavered.

"It's very … powerful," Eva muttered, mentally pushing herself into a light meditation to regain what calm she could. "If you're too uncomfortable, you should leave. This is not to be played around with."

"I can bear this," Mission decided, "but I'm sure as heck going to be a long time in the 'fresher after this."

"You can trust me," Carth said quietly, his tense stance notwithstanding.

They advanced forward cautiously into the room. Like the others, it held the carved globular pillars, as well as an air of general creepiness. What was different, however, were the decorative items, banners? signs? flags, perhaps, decorated with a strangle symmetrical symbol, a centre circle cradled between two angled lines to form a stylistic, elongated diamond shape with exaggerated corners, open at the top and bottom. And at the back of the room, half hidden in the shadows, was a tall metal shape that appeared to be almost exactly half of that symbol, apart from the closed tip.

Fascinated and not a little scared, Eva edged forward to get a better look at the unknown object. As she drew closer, a humming noise purred forth from the metal form and she felt another wave of dark Force. This was the nexus, then. Stopping short, Eva gripped her lightsaber as the base started to glow, and the shaft of the sculpture split into three petals, gently unfolding as a flower might to rest parallel to the ground. Previously unseen symbols traced on the metal glowed and a sphere that rested in the base started to levitate and spin, sending out rays of blue and yellow light. With a hiss, the light fragmented and Eva, Carth and Mission were the spellbound beholders of a completely three dimensional star chart, the shape of a sphere balanced perfectly on top of the three metal arms.

"Oh my Force," Eva whispered.

"It's beautiful," Mission sighed, before whisking out some recording device and making an electronic copy of the glowing display.

"What did Malak want with this?" Carth asked Eva softly.

"I… don't know," Eva frowned, moving closer to the giant glowing orb. "It's a star chart of some kind… a map. A map to where… or what?"

"The Star Forge?" Mission hazarded, remembering what the Overseer had said.

"Look at the arms and base closely," Eva said suddenly, leaning forward. "They're damaged. Someone tried to destroy this, a long time ago. The gashes have oxidised far beyond what would happen in a few years."

"Did they damage it too badly to be read?" Mission wondered.

"Carth, come over here. Does this look like the Pyrshak system to you?" Eva pointed at one highlighted star.

Knitting his brows, Carth translated all the star charts he knew of into this new format. "It certainly looks like it. The second planet … that's Manaan. Why is it highlighting Manaan? For the kolto?"

Eva shook her head. "I don't think so. These other three… well, I'm pretty sure this one is Tatooine. Can't miss the twin suns, can we?"

"You would be a very poor navigator if you did," Carth agreed. "To the best of my knowledge, Tatooine's got sand… and that's about it."

"Oh… I know _this_ one. That star is Horuset, and the second planet is Korriban, a Sith world. That makes more sense than the other two… dark creatures would be drawn there. Maybe not 20,000 years ago, _if_ the droid is correct about the date," Eva mused.

"This one is Dina – the sun we're orbiting now. The last one is Kashyyyk. It has a planet of the same name; I think it's the Wookiee homeworld," Carth informed her after a pause.

"That's where Big Z is from," Mission said triumphantly.

"This makes no sense," Eva pondered. "Why highlight those planets along with the one we're already on? What is the purpose of this? If it is a map, where does it lead?"

Mission shrugged. "If Dantooine is highlighted, and it has this Star Map, maybe the others have one too?"

"Declaring the glory of the Infinite Empire," Eva murmured, shaking her head in frustration.

"No, wait," Carth interrupted, using his finger to point at what he had been puzzling over. "These are coordinates, they're using all these planets as a legend, a guide to find a sixth position. But I just can't figure it out… I think that there's something missing. This map is incomplete… if Malak made something out of it, he knew something we don't."

"Or perhaps he went looking for the other maps, if there be maps on those other planets," Eva pointed out slowly. "Malak _was_ sighted on Korriban and Tatooine during the Mandalorian Wars."

Carth pondered this for a while in silence. "It's a long shot, but at this point we can't ignore the chance you're right," he admitted.

"We need to discuss this with the Jedi Council," Eva's voice cut through the quiet.

"And the Republic," Carth's tone was unrelenting.

"After we discuss this with the Council," Eva said stubbornly. "This is about the Dark Side. There's no way the Republic is equipped to handle this."

"_Eva_," Carth said explosively, before taking a deep breath and calming himself, "come on, let's try and do this together. Maybe the reason why the galaxy's in such a fracking mess is because the Republic and the Jedi started to look after their own interests first. The Republic can't do without the Jedi, but it goes both ways."

Mission added her own opinion. "Everyone has a right to know about this. It's our galaxy too."

Eva looked at them both and nodded. "Let's get out of here. I can't stand this place anymore."

"I second that," Mission concurred.

They moved out of the temple, not stopping even to chat further with the Overseer; not that the impassive droid had anything further to say. Without a word, Eva started to disassemble the device that had protected the entrance and packed it away, gazing speculatively at a few small boulders lying near the cave entrance. When she had packed the last few things away, she used the Force to block the entrance with the best sized rocks.

"This should stop the kath hounds using the place as a den," Eva stated the obvious. "They might not have had direct access to the Star Map, but that cave was saturated in dark power. Without the use of the cave, they may revert back to their natures."

Eva took the controls of the speeder and waited for her companions to settle themselves in their seats before gently guiding the craft around to point in the right direction, and moving off.

Mission broke the silence. "So… what was that 'nexus of power'? How was it dark, what made it dark, and what happens now?"

Eva was disinclined to answer.

"Eva, please," Carth requested softly, "don't hide the details from us."

The blonde Jedi sighed. After what she knew of him, she couldn't deny him what he asked. "That… the Star Map; I'm not sure exactly what it is. I don't know how it was made, or by what. My theory, though, is that it was made by a group of Force Sensitives, who imbued the object with their own Force. Extrapolating from that, it is possible they attempted to fuse the Force with machinery. There have been attempts to do that in known history; and they all end badly. Generally, trying to harness the Force in such a way always turns it dark, and leads the users into corruption and ultimately, destruction."

Musing aloud, Carth took over the conversation. "That droid, if it is to be believed, told us that there was an Infinite Empire 20,000 years ago, unmatched in the galaxy. If this Empire used the Force…"

Mission carried it on, "like an Ancient Sith Empire."

"There was an Ancient Sith Empire," Eva broke in moodily, "with real Sith. That would make this Empire an Ancient Ancient Sith-Like Empire."

"Infinite Ancient Ancient Sith-Like Empire," Mission corrected herself. "Man, I'm glad I didn't live back then."

"And if part of the power behind that ancient Empire lies now in Malak's control, it is no longer a puzzle why Malak has been so successful," Eva finished, her lips in a straight line.

"That's… that's really frightening," Mission noted, without a single cheery note in her voice.

"It scares me to death," Eva agreed sincerely.

**(&X&)**

Alone at last, Eva turned on a few lights and looked over the deserted duelling room. It was now in the dark early hours of the morning, and she had finally finished the prolonged meetings with the Jedi Council, the Republic, and the Jedi Council with the Republic. Carth had just turned in for the night. His presence necessary as the Republic's representative on site, he had taken part in each meeting and had been quite tired. Eva, on the other hand, was still fearful of the current situation and her adrenaline supplies had not completely dissipated in her bloodstream. Trying to sleep would be a fruitless venture. Hence, she had decided to do something she hadn't in a very long time: fighting simulations.

Fetching a training saber and programming the computer to run a reasonably easy simulation, Eva positioned her body into a fighting stance and waited for it to commence. Her holographic competitor wavered into view and took a similar stance, before moving into the coordinated moves of swordplay.

_At first, the Council had been stunned and unable to decide the proper course. Of course, they hadn't said so, but after so many years of acquaintance Eva could tell anyway. It was a heck of a lot of information to assimilate in a sitting. Eva slowly postulated her theories and suggestions, ostensibly leaving the decision up to them but in reality consistently pointing out the only course of action. Which was? Answer: She, Carth, Bastila (as her Padawan), and a selected task force go to those four planets: Manaan, Kashyyyk, Tatooine and Korriban, to search for the Star Maps and find the location to whatever ancient artefact Malak had been after. This was the first solid lead they had on Malak's resources, even though it, quite frankly, sounded like something out of a fantasy novel. A previously unrecorded Empire in history? Mere speculation. A 20,000 year old droid? Unproven. _

Eva swept her blade savagely through her holographic enemy's face. The projection 'fell' to the floor, and then faded away. A quiet chime sounded, announcing her victory over that simulation. Very well. On to another, slightly more difficult one. This time, the holographic representative was 'dressed' in Sith robes with a highly off-putting mask. Eva balanced herself and ran the rules of the Makashi 'saber form through her head, the ultimate lightsaber-to-lightsaber form. Had it really been more than a year since she practised it?

_They couldn't dismiss Mission's technological prowess. The recordings she had taken of the Star Map provided not only the information recorded in the Star Map, but also details about the Star Map itself. It had a unique power pattern that could be detected up to five kilometres away, using standard technology. Eva was confident that five Star Maps could provide all the necessary data to find the ancient weapon. The Star Forge, the droid had called it. Whatever it was, they had to find it. It was as simple as that. Eventually, both she and Carth had managed to convince both the Jedi Council and a few Republic Admirals of that fact. Perhaps they would have come to the conclusion on their own in as little as a week; but time was becoming ever more precious. Who knew if that was a week they could afford?_

As the latest holographic adversary writhed and flickered on the ground, Eva wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, and dried her hands on her robe. The cylinder of the training lightsaber was getting a touch slippery, but she still didn't feel as if she could rest. More physical exertion was required. Eva gulped air as she ordered yet another simulation.

_Finally, after much conversation and planning, it was decided that Eva and her current crew would depart the following morning aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ on this mission: to travel to each of the highlighted planets, discover the star maps, find the Star Forge, and report back. She was expected to keep in contact with the Council, and Carth was commanded to keep the Republic informed. Due to the unplanned nature of the mission, they were ineligible for any support or supplies. Eva had pleaded for a few Jedi for backup. She argued that Malak was certain to have laid traps along the way; that accidents and unforeseen occurrences could happen; that important Jedi like Bastila needed extra protection against capture. They denied her request, only granting her one Jedi, and that of their choosing: Juhani, the formally lost Cathar Padawan. Eva had actually been struck dumb for a moment. How on earth was _that_ supposed to help?_

"I see you have not lost _all_ your skill in these past years," a voice from behind Eva stated.

Whirling around with her training saber at the ready, Eva found herself matching looks with Vrook Lamar. A discordant tone emitted from the computer – she had forgotten about her holographic opponent who had taken advantage of her distraction and stabbed her with his holographic vibroblade. Eva dropped her eyes to the flickering light seemingly springing from her midsection.

"Or did I speak too soon? This weakness to distraction will not serve you well in the midst of true battle, Revan," Vrook reprimanded her.

"There are so many facets to this mission that will not serve me well, Master Vrook, that I fear it may not be in my power to return, or even accomplish the objective," Eva said frankly.

"A Jedi does not fear death," the older Jedi admonished. "You should know that, _Master_ Revan." He walked over to the computer and shut the simulations off.

"I do know that, Master," Eva replied unflinchingly, "but I … I _do not like_ the prospect of failure. It seems that so many factors of this mission have already been set to the disadvantage."

"Does any Jedi face true disadvantage when armed by the Force?" Vrook questioned, raising Eva's eyebrows as he unclipped his own lightsaber and palmed it in both hands.

"Ask that question to any number of Jedi who have been broken by the Sith," Eva replied, her eyes watching him warily, as she tossed the training saber onto a shelf and drew her own lightsaber from her belt.

"You raise a salient point," Vrook acknowledged sourly as he ignited his saber, the green blade matching Eva's as she also unleashed the power of her own weapon. "Do you, then, fear your own downfall?"

"Perhaps, in some small part of my brain, but my greater concern is that of the Order and the galaxy. We are so close to losing to the Dark Side."

"And do you consider yourself the key player on which this outcome depends? Without you, the galaxy is plunged into darkness, but with you, there remains hope?" Vrook took a Niman stance. Eva was just thankful he didn't attempt Ataru – she wasn't quite up for back-flips and somersaults.

Pointing her blade back against her shoulder, she waited for him to attack. "Of course not, but I can see the possible importance of this coming mission. You know I am not ambitious, I have not been for twenty years."

They circled each other, punctuated with a few cautious clashes. "Indeed. I have catalogued your weaknesses over thirty years," Vrook replied dryly.

Eva stifled a grimace. "May I assume you have come here to give me a detailed list?"

A few more strikes, carefully calculated and blocked. "Actually, no. I came here to occupy myself in the fashion you were when I arrived here."

"Why?" Eva asked, avoiding a somewhat gentle Force pull towards his glowing blade.

"As you are, I imagine, I am apprehensive about the future. I felt that some physical activity would quieten my spirit enough to rest, if not in sleep then in meditation." Vrook stepped up on his speed and began pressing Eva backwards.

"Okay," Eva said, astonished and a little shocked. "Any words of wisdom for me, Master?"

With the Force, Vrook relentlessly pressed her against the wall without laying a hand on her, effectively disarming her. "Yes. Don't fail." Powering down his lightsaber, he bowed once towards her direction and began walking away.

"You do know I was going easy on you? You're an old man!" Eva called out to him.

"True, but I weigh less than you do," Vrook tossed back as he left the room.

"Son of a…" Eva swore, the first grin for the last half-day unwillingly quirking her lips. "Man, I need to get in shape."

**Author's Notes and Explantions: Happy Anniversary to me! Almost! On the 11****th**** of December, 2009, I will have written this for one year. Hopefully it won't take me as long to finish it! But if it does… thank you for being loyal so far!**

**Since Bastila hasn't alerted the Jedi Council of the entrance to the Star Maps because she never shared a vision with Revan, Nemo hasn't been sent out, so no Finding Nemo Dead. Ooh, and did it never seem like a major plot hole to you guys, that Revan didn't understand the Rakatan language when in the Dantooine Ruin, but then did on the Unknown World? Perhaps Revan's memories **_**were**_** coming back. *interested noise***

**If the Exile can see those three or four mining droids in the next room on Peragus with her newly established connection with the Force, I figure Eva could find out the droid in the second room would be operational. And do you know how hard it is to describe a Star Map??? Try it. You'll see! And as I'm trying to rein in my prejudices in this fic, such as my dislike for the Jedi in general and Vrook in particular, I thought I'd try and see if I could make him human. I'm sorry for all the exposition. It's not over, either – but hopefully I made it palatable. Have a good month! (I will really try to update before then!)**


	29. Translocation

**Chapter Twenty Nine: Translocation**

_Previously: Carth, Eva and Mission discovered the first Star Map on Dantooine, and believe it leads to something called a Star Forge. What this is or does is a mystery, but they believe it holds the key to Malak's successful campaign against the Republic. Eva and Carth managed to gain permission from the Jedi Order and the Republic Fleet to investigate this new lead, but were denied further assistance. Eva decided she needed to get in shape after a sparring session with Master Vrook._

They left Dantooine in the Ebon Hawk early the next day. It was without fanfare, which was not remarkable in the Jedi Order. People went about their business as if utterly unaware that the mission that would make or break the galaxy's chances of a non-dark future was commencing, although Vrook seemed to have found a reason to pop by and glare at Eva – or was it stare at her meaningfully? Eva was never able to quite distinguish his motives. They saw none of the other members of the Council, having said their official farewells the night before.

Eva dumped her gear in one of the bunkrooms that were located conveniently next to the airlock and headed up to the cockpit, to find both Carth and Bastila both at their posts: good. They had just stabilised the _Hawk_'s position in space, and were calculating the hyperspace coordinates necessary to make the jump to Manaan. During the epic meeting that spanned yesterday and last night, it was decided to take things as carefully as the circumstances and time constraints would permit. Manaan had a rigid law code and was enthusiastic about enforcing it, so despite a Sith Embassy on site it was a much safer place to start with than Kashyyyk, a planet riddled by slavers; Tatooine, a planet inhabited by hunters and criminals; and certainly safer than Korriban, the planet most thought of as Sith-Central.

Having completed the mathematics of the whole hyperspace coordinate thingo (for a droid enthusiast, Eva had a great dislike of advanced maths) Bastila nodded to Carth to send the _Ebon Hawk_ into hyperdrive. Eva held the back of an unoccupied seat to brace herself as the stars began to blur from sharp pinpricks of light into long glaring streaks. A moment of unsteadiness, and then the artificial gravity reestablished itself. Eva let go of the seat and walked to the jutting console in the middle of the cockpit, so both Carth and Bastila could look at her without overly straining their necks.

"Is everything going to your satisfaction, Captain?" Eva joked mildly to Carth.

"She's a good ship, Eva. We take care of her, and she'll take care of us," Carth returned, smoothing his hands over the controls in the way Eva recognised in herself when she found a particularly nice droid/part.

"Everything is proceeding as expected, Master," Bastila affirmed, releasing her seat restraints and rising from her seat. "My duties here are over. I will be in one of the bunk rooms if I am needed."

"Good. Perhaps you can stop Mission from sticking computer spikes up through your mattress," Eva smiled amiably at Bastila.

"You jest," Bastila accused.

"Yep," confirmed Eva unrepentantly. "She's actually doing it to Canderous' bunk, something about a bad wager. I rely on you to make sure all bodily fluids remain in their respective bodies, okay?"

Bastila sighed and departed. With her gone, Eva slid around to Carth's side of the console, so they could speak quite easily over the muted chirps and beeps of the _Ebon Hawk_'s piloting system.

Carth stilled his hands over the controls and glanced at Eva. "I guess when my shift is over, I should inspect my own bunk. Are there any particularly unpleasant insects Mission might have smuggled on board from Dantooine?"

"I don't think you need to worry about Mission," Eva murmured quietly. "She likes you, grumpy old man and all. You have more to worry about with Canderous. If such childish pranks ever occurred to him, you might have to watch out for body parts in your bed. Or explosives."

"That sounds charming," Carth scoffed. "Damn. We have some crew, don't we? Two Jedi, a Mandalorian, a teenaged Twi'lek, a Wookiee and… oh, another Jedi - a Cathar; and me, a lone Republic pilot with no idea what the hell is going on."

"Poor, lost, lonely man," Eva smiled gently, impulsively reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair.

Carth snorted and tilted his head away to avoid her mischievous fingers. "Okay, the pity party's over, for now. There's not enough booze here, anyway." He rolled his shoulders and looked at her speculatively. "So, come to keep a poor, lost, lonely pilot company, or do you have an ulterior motive for this social call?"

"No, I just wanted to bother you," Eva shrugged, grinning. "Seriously, we're the leaders of this expedition. We need to think up battle plans. Then we can discard them at will when we're planetside."

Huffing a laugh, Carth crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat, the better to see Eva. "Have you been to Manaan before?"

"No, never. There wasn't a need for a Jedi," Eva explained. "You?"

"Nope. As far as I know, it's just a ball of water with a city built just so the native aquatics could sell the kolto."

"According to my datapad, the Selkath are very tough on violence. They will penalise both parties, and in an accusation, you are guilty until proven innocent. That should protect us from the local Sith in most straightforward situations, but the Sith will be quick to try and figure out ways to sabotage us without implicating themselves, as we'll have to identify ourselves as allies to the Republic."

"Sounds like a friendly place," Carth raised his eyebrow at Eva. "Any other soothing tidbits you know?"

"Well, the Selkath are mildly xenophobic. I guess you can't really blame them – look what's going on in the galaxy. We don't exactly shine."

"Do they actually believe they can stay neutral in this war?" Carth expressed his incredulity with a small head shake. "Are they actually dumb enough to expect honour from the Sith?"

"The Selkath are relatively new in inter-species relations, and like most species, they tend to be wary of outside recommendations. I guess they're just going to have their hands, flippers, whatever burned before they learn," Eva sighed, and her expression darkened. "And there's the point that they'll be on whatever side wins. They're trying to play both factions against the other. It looks like a winning situation for them, but they simply cannot fathom the danger they're playing with."

"The Sith will turn on them, one way or another," Carth agreed, "but it would probably be better if they did that after we're gone. It would be quite nasty if that happened while we're there. Or because of something we did," Carth mused, thinking. "We shouldn't doubt that the Sith on Manaan have already implemented plans to get the advantage over their Republic neighbours – and no doubt if they catch wind of either you or Bastila – well, they will probably be a touch short of suicidal to get us or kill us."

"Conversely, if the Republic Embassy is feeling threatened, they will do what they must to protect themselves – which would probably necessitate sourcing out help from outside the Embassy," Eva frowned.

"If the Republic needs help, then we'll help," Carth stated positively.

"_If_ we can help without endangering our mission," Eva qualified.

Carth stayed silent a moment, considering. "If it can be helped, please, promise me that any decisions will be made jointly, between us two."

Eva understood the connotations beneath the words. "I promise you I won't go behind your back or undermine you."

Carth sighed, evidently relieved. He reached out and pressed her hand. "Thank you."

She grasped it loosely in return. "No problem, Commander. Now, I should go to what passes for a galley on this ship. Can't have the most important galactic mission ever fail because of preventable starvation."

The pilot nodded and returned to his perusal of the cockpit controls, as Eva slid out from between his chair and the console and began walking towards the rear of the ship. Her pre-thought strategy as to her dealings with the Republic pilot had paid off. She reminded herself to remember his trust issues, and knew that he would need reassurance and repeated declarations of loyalty to operate as close to optimum and as far away from paranoia as possible. Hidden away in between these thoughts was the observation, _Carth has nice hands._

**(&X&)**

"ETA to Manaan is in 2.6 hours," Carth alerted the assembled crew in the central room of the _Ebon Hawk_. With a remarkable lack of respect, they had used the large holo projector in the middle as a table, on which sat a few dishes of cooked food that Eva had managed to put together. They were seated lazily around the projector, eating their food in varying rates of speed. Mission was unusually picky for a street rat, though it seemed Canderous and Zaalbar had no complaints. Juhani and Bastila ate expressionlessly; and Carth merely appreciated the fact it wasn't ration bars.

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when you hired me, Jedi," Canderous grumbled to Eva, "going to a planet stuffed full of stupid laws preventing any sort of hostile contact. I was better off on Dantooine – at least then I could hunt the wildlife."

"With the Sith present on Manaan, I doubt things are going to go off without a hitch, Canderous," Eva replied lazily, spearing a recalcitrant bean with her spork, "and when things do go pear shaped, you're a handy man to have in a fight."

"I suppose I can live in hope," Canderous shrugged, ignoring both Mission's giggle and Juhani's glare.

"Revan," the Cathar Jedi spoke, "I wish to request a personal conversation with you."

"Ah," Eva looked up from her bowl, surprised. "You wish to speak to me in private? Sure. How about an hour from now? Shall we meet in the engine room?"

"That will be satisfactory," Juhani acknowledged, and resumed her silence.

T3 communicated via the _Ebon Hawk'_s onboard sound system that all was normal. Currently, he was the one doing cockpit duty while Carth took a break to eat and freshen up. Eva had said that there was no need for constant human surveillance in such an early stage of the game. Carth had reluctantly agreed, intending to man the cockpit anyway.

"So, Eva," Mission ventured, heartily bored, "tell me something. Have you ever played a trick on somebody?"

Eva's head jerked up from earnest contemplation of the sauces in her dish. "You mean, like a practical joke? I'm a Jedi Master, Mission. I'm respectable."

"That's a yes, then," Mission decided, unimpressed by skilful evasion. "Most of the Jedi back at the Enclave are pretty milky, but I liked some of them."

"Part of being a Jedi is to be peaceable. Practical jokes tend to end up in confrontation," Eva pointed out, "and practical jokes against someone who can use the Force can take danger to a whole 'nother level."

Bastila shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat.

"Practical jokes are a waste of time," Canderous grunted. "Takes effort and thought away from the battlefield, and there's precious little honour to be found in it. Mandalorians don't favour malicious little sneakers."

"Yeah, but it can liven things up, and if it makes people laugh, then it makes people feel better," Mission argued. "So long as you don't be mean about it, I don't see what the problem is."

"That's the viewpoint of the perpetrator," Eva emphasized. "It can look drastically different to the victim, and bystanders can be hurt if the joke goes awry. 100% accurate foresight isn't possible for anyone, not even Jedi."

"Name a personal example where practical joking hurt someone," Mission challenged. She had beaten around the bush enough: she wanted some of Eva's history.

Eva sighed, and then, beginning to smile in remembrance, began.

"One of my fellow Jedi had a serious phobia of arachnids. He got the shakes from seeing just a holo of a kinrath. Well, our future droid technician, Albresh, was just full of mischief at that time. Albresh wasn't great shakes as a Jedi – very little power, and even less control. He would have been shipped off to Telos if he didn't have his genius at all sorts of droid management…" Eva's voice dropped off, remembering just what had happened to Telos. She shook herself, continuing the story. "He was always experimenting with droids, and not just protocol droids. Maintenance droids, excavation droids, you name it, he worked on it. But what he was really interested in were experimental droids. Different concepts, and sizes, and previously unthought of tasks. It's a very interesting field," Eva asserted firmly, as Mission yawned pointedly.

"The story?" Mission asked impatiently.

"Well, like I said, Albresh wasn't a great Jedi. Some other kids picked on him for that. One was a talented boy called Bren. Bren thought he was a great Jedi, and taunted Albresh about his lack. Albresh, knowing his phobia for arachnids, decided to even the score."

"He built a robot spider, didn't he?" Mission guessed triumphantly.

Eva looked disappointed. "Well, yes. He did. He set it loose in the room, and nobody noticed it till Bren screamed. It had made its way to his foot, you see, and crawled inside his pants. Well, Bren completely lost control, and Force Pushed. It was directed to the ceiling, it swung the lighting fixture to the roof, breaking its cord, and fell, hitting Master Vrook on the head and knocking him out. He collapsed on a poor young apprentice and it took us almost five minutes to quell the students and lift Vrook's inert body from suffocating the poor lad. I don't believe Mical ever recovered from the experience," Eva mused.

"That doesn't sound too dangerous," Mission demurred.

Eva lifted an eyebrow. "No? How about a particularly pride-worthy apprentice who was dared to use levitation to descend down a cliff-face? Suffice to say, he did not have the technique down as well as he thought."

Canderous chuckled gruffly. "There's nothing like broken bones to knock the crap out of young idiots."

"Old idiots, too," Eva returned wryly. "The last bone I broke was in my hand, when I slipped on a newly washed floor in the enclave and fell wrong. For a month, people would ask me how I could survive perilous missions but get injured just by walking."

"Reminds me of the Mandalorian warrior who was careless jumping from his Basilisk War Droid," Canderous mused. "Damn fool snagged his armour on something and hung there till someone came along to lift him off. He was the next Quarter Master."

"Fascinating as all this useless reminiscing is, we would be better served to prepare for our tasks on Manaan, wouldn't you say?" Bastila said abruptly, standing with her empty bowl in her hands.

"What do you do for two and a half hours?" Mission queried, a little upset at the drying fount of information. "Wash your hair? Do your nails?"

"I meditate," Bastila returned reproachfully, a little perturbed that the old animosity between them seemed to be arising again.

"Well, I don't, and I really don't see Canderous meditating, either," Mission pointed out a little more temperately.

"S'alright, Blue," Canderous grunted, leaving his bowl on the projector and getting to his feet, stretching. "I've jawed enough. I might as well grab some shuteye. I wouldn't want to miss all the fascinating _non-violence_ coming up."

The Mandalorian farted as he left the room. The resulting invisible sulphurous cloud was not overly appreciated by the rest of the assembly.

Mission commented sourly, "Odorous Candour, exit stage right."

A little pale, Eva vowed, "Okay. I'm never cooking beans for him again."

"I'm off to the cockpit," Carth said cheerfully, bolting in that direction.

"I shall accompany him," Bastila said, her voice holding a note of desperation.

"How about that talk?" Eva suggested to Juhani, who accepted and accompanied the Jedi Master from the room.

"I'm going to moisturise my lekku," Mission told Zaalbar before heading to the 'fresher.

As he was left all alone, Zaalbar took in a breath and looked thoughtful. "That is remarkably like crushed Kashyyyki tree fungi."

**(&X&)**

The cockpit was silent apart from the occasional muted tones of the ship controls. Carth busied himself in a few tweaking exercises to optimize the _Hawk_'s flying performance, but there was really not much he could do sitting in the pilot's chair. Technology had advanced so far that it practically flew itself, and he was there only as a precaution. Carth was used to this: he had been a pilot for well over a decade. Of course, generally whenever he had a co-pilot he tried to foster a good working relationship with that co-pilot while busily watching them for any untrustworthy behaviour. Bastila was so fervent about the Jedi that he doubted she would actively seek to harm the mission, but there was something in that very fanaticism that made his instincts stand up and pay attention. Besides, she was so damned young. She should be developing her own character and having fun, not trying desperately to save the galaxy in a bitterly fought war.

"Have you ever been to Manaan?" Carth asked, wearying of the silence.

Bastila looked up, momentarily disoriented. "No. So far in my experience, it has never been necessary."

"It ought to be interesting for all of us, then. It seems none of us have been there," Carth ventured.

"Our enjoyment is a low priority, Carth. The mission must come above all else," Bastila returned gravely.

"That goes without saying. I don't actually think there'll be much enjoyment for me with the Sith walking around. It was hard enough on Taris, and now, seeing how Taris ended up, it'll be even harder."

"The Sith are in the power of the Dark Side. They are capable of unspeakable evil," Bastila stated, almost expressionlessly. If he hadn't been looking for it, Carth might have missed the flicker of fear that glinted from her eyes. "However, throughout history, it has always been proved that good triumphs over evil. Eventually."

Carth wondered what history she was referring to. "Bastila, we've known each other for a while now. I've seen you handle yourself and others in some very difficult circumstances. Now, you can tell me to go to hell if you like, but I'd like to ask you a question."

Bastila drew her brows up in surprise. "The permission to curse at you is appreciated, though unnecessary. You may ask your question."

He thought for a moment, trying to frame the words diplomatically. "I was impressed with your confidence on Taris, before we rescued Eva. You showed a maturity I wouldn't expect for one of your age. I guess it's that Jedi training you talk about. But, I can't help but notice that you react… differently, when Eva's around. And not in a good way. I mean, you're always proper, and it's nothing really noticeable…"

Bastila sat up stiffly in her chair. "I can assure you, Commander, that any personal conflicts I may have with my Master will not affect this mission or my performance."

Carth sighed in frustration. "That's not what I mean. It's just… look, I'm concerned about you. You've a heavy weight on your shoulders, and you've been through some very traumatic experiences. I don't want you to be hurt more than can be avoided. And I like Eva, but I can't really see her as being much of a support for you."

Bastila sat quietly for a moment, slowly turning his words over in her mind. To her surprise, he did really seem to care. After a while, she stated softly, "A Jedi is supported by the Force. A Jedi must have inner-peace, and everything else is built on that foundation. A Jedi without inner-peace is not in harmony with the Force."

"Jedi aside, you're a teenager. That's not an insult about your age – it's a fact. When I was your age, heck, even older, I wasn't up for what you're going through. As far as all humans go, the teenage years are a turbulent time."

"Most humans do not have the coping techniques available to the Jedi," Bastila pointed out firmly, though her tone of conviction wavered at the end of her sentence. "But you are correct – I am a teenager, and a Padawan, not a Knight or a Master."

"Don't think I'm putting you down, I'm not. It's just, the more pressure that is put on you, the more I worry. There are hundreds of examples of prodigies being pushed too far too early. You're amazingly talented, but you still have your own maturity timetable to follow, and trying to follow anyone else's is foolish. No one can know you like you yourself."

Bastila thought deeply for a while, her forehead frowning in concentration. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Carth. I… would like to think on this. It is… gratifying, to know that you care enough to talk of this me, if it is not particularly agreeable that you believe it necessary."

Carth smiled with a bitterness that wasn't completely veiled. "I guess, it's once a parent, always a parent."

Her eyes glanced up for an instant to his before averting her gaze back to her hands. Naturally, she remembered the facts from the files – Carth had been father to a son, who was lost in the surface destruction of Telos. Though completely different in origin, Carth bore his own burden of stress. "You should know that Eva regards you highly," she said suddenly.

Grateful he hadn't been in the midst of swallowing caffa, Carth jerked his head to look at her incredulously.

"I mean," Bastila stumbled, displeased at how awkwardly her overture had framed itself, "I believe that if you ever needed the favour returned, Eva would happily provide it," she elaborated, still feeling unpleasantly stiff in tone and language. "I've noticed that you two have a friendly… rapport, I suppose. Master Eva isn't known for having a great number of friends, but she is known for having the same ones for the longest time. In other words, I believe she is reliable."

"I'll keep that in mind," Carth answered after a long moment.

Bastila nodded at him thankfully, pleased to have the awkward moment ended. Taking a sip of her own beverage, she began perusing a datapad onto which she had downloaded a refresher course on common Selkath. She already knew the language, but she believed in being prepared.

_Meanwhile, in another part of the ship…_

As Eva settled down on the hyperdrive engine, making a nice, flat and warm makeshift seat, Juhani stood awkwardly in front of her.

"I just wanted to apologise for how I acted… in the grove," Juhani said, her pose respectful and stiff.

Eva nodded once, and glanced up at Juhani's face through her lashes. "Okay. You're forgiven – heck, you've been forgiven for that for a while. What do you really want to talk about?"

Juhani's golden eyes flickered. "I am thankful for being given this chance to redeem myself."

"Redeem yourself? From what?" Eva questioned. "Sure, you had a momentary lapse. But you didn't hurt anyone."

"Not for want of trying," Juhani spat, fists clenching before making a conscious effort to straighten. "I do not appreciate your taking my offence so lightly, Master Revan. I need to remember how badly I have fallen, so I may not do it again."

Eva slid off her warm post reluctantly. "You also need to remember not to take pride in your fall, Juhani. Yes, you fell, but it was not dramatic, or anything other than a simple, desperate mistake that hundreds and possibly even thousands have made before you. You are not unique in that way."

Juhani looked up, speechless. When she was capable of speech, her voice was shocked. "You… you believe I take _pride_ in my fall, in my disgrace?"

"There is a certain allure to the idea that one gave in to evil, that one didn't turn away and be good but embraced power," Eva said baldly. "It's even possible that you could look at me and feel superior, as I have not to your knowledge succumbed to temptation, as if I was afraid and you were not. The Dark Side masquerades as so many alluring things: power, autonomy, sensuality. Do you think I have not been where you are?"

Juhani's expressive eyes became shuttered. "I very much doubt we have much in common, Master."

Eva smiled, taking Juhani by surprise. "That's probably true enough. We have very different personalities, after all. But remember this, Juhani – I have lived in this universe much longer than you have. In all my struggles to do what is right, and all my despair at not being able to, the only way I have ever survived is to be honest with myself and balanced in my expectations. You made a mistake. Acknowledge it, and endeavour not to repeat it. That is the best atonement you can offer. You will make other mistakes, I guarantee, but hopefully not the same ones."

The calming purr of the engine filled what would otherwise be a long silence. Eva watched Juhani's face interestedly as her expressions morphed and changed.

"I will consider this advice," Juhani said finally, her tones measured and a little different from her usual style. "Quatra never challenged my set opinions, though she guided my newer ones. Perhaps she felt I was not yet mature enough to understand her wisdom."

"Maturity probably had something to do with it," Eva said tactfully, restraining a few acid quips that sprang to her tongue. "Oh, and Juhani? If you have any serious concerns about Canderous, I would appreciate it if you came to me before the situation becomes violent. I understand your ethnic concerns about the Mandalorian, but for now I ask you to try to tolerate him as best you can."

"On this ship, one way or another, almost everyone has had a part or represents some part of losing either of my homeworlds," Juhani said, a brittle smile twisting one side of her mouth.

"True enough," Eva conceded with a tilt of her head. "This mission, Juhani, is vital to the survival of everything good. Remember that, please."

"I shall not… I shall _endeavour_ not to fail you," Juhani answered her solemnly.

Eva kept her smile pasted firmly on her face as she exited the engine room and passed by the starboard dormitory, where a squawk from Mission informed her that Canderous had merely switched mattresses and left Mission to find her own spikes. Eva changed direction and slid into the medbay, closing the door and pressing her face deeply into the pillow on the cot to scream. An explosive crew, an indifferent leader such as she was, going to a place with a Sith Embassy? Eva felt she would sooner try to convince a kath hound to turn vegetarian. At least there'd be less potential body parts to fly around.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Um… hello? So, yeah. I've been very bad. Worse bad than I was before. I did tell you I planned on finishing this, right? Well, naturally, it will be in its own sweet time. Hopefully I don't die before then! I've been playing Dragon Age and Mass Effect 2, both excellent games, I recommend them both for those who like RPG, ME2 especially for the headshots! Special thanks to Jen DeClan for keeping my mind roughly on the genre with her Kotor/ME crossover, Sartorial Eloquence. Two worlds down, five and a star station to go! **


	30. Intoxication

**Chapter Thirty: Intoxication**

_Previously: While flying from Dantooine to Manaan, several crew members talked to the more senior members. Carth talked to Eva, Bastila talked to Carth, Eva talked to Juhani. Mission whiled away the travelling time as best she could, and Zaalbar did nothing other than acknowledge a sentimental moment. The rest of the crew were alerted to the undesirable combination of Canderous and beans._

As Carth was meticulously checking post-flight checklists, Eva was in the garage, attempting to pick out an appropriately chosen landing party from the current inmates of the Ebon Hawk. As the said inmates comprised of a Wookiee, an astromech droid, two moody Jedi, a teenage Twi'lek and a typically violence-oriented Mandalorian, Eva was not currently having much success.

"I should give up already," she complained to herself as she packed a few things into an easily transportable bag, "just tell Malak to 'have fun with your evil plans', head past the outer rim and get myself chewed on by a bunch of unnameable aliens."

"It's strange the things you'll see on the Outer Rim," Canderous commented, completely ignoring the rest of her pity-me speech. "I remember when we were going through the asteroid fields of the Crispin system, playing with the pirates and smugglers we found there."

"Long story short, you pulverised 'em, right, Canderous?" Mission smirked, as she settled a knife more comfortably in her right boot.

After casting a dirty look in the Twi'lek's direction, Canderous continued as if he had not been interrupted. "The main belt in the Crispin system consists of mainly small rocks covered in frozen methane gas shells, and the pirates were using them for cover."

"So you made 'em go boom, right? Fried those poor pirates and smugglers right inside their ships. That'll teach 'em, right? Or not, because they didn't live through it," Mission broke in again, secure in the knowledge that Big Z was standing just a few steps away from her.

"As if I care what your opinions are, child," Canderous shrugged. "I'll save the story for someone who's interested."

"Wait," Mission said, "you're not going to tell us the ending?"

"I don't want to mess up the fantasy you've got going inside that head of yours," Canderous returned. "I'll take delusional brats any day over weepy ones."

"And how do you feel about scowling ones?" Eva asked Canderous, glancing at the angry purple flush creeping over Mission's cheeks and nose.

"The stressed out ones tend to get stuck in my teeth," Canderous shrugged, "Tenses the muscles at the time of slaughter. Makes for some tough steaks."

"You know I don't believe you," Mission said aggressively, her jaw thrusting forward. "C'mon, Z, let's see what's good on the holo."

"If Bastila is part of the landing party, I must go too, Mission. I will not dishonour the life-debt once more."

Pouting, Mission tossed her lekku and headed back into the starboard quarters.

"Zaalbar," Eva started in a mild tone, "I'm planning on having Bastila, Carth and Canderous with me today. I do not in any way wish to infringe upon your honour or your pledge, but allow me to say that I think your presence with us today could quite possibly be more harm than good."

"I take your warning into consideration, but I shall be beside Bastila throughout the dangerous times of her life, as I have sworn," Zaalbar stated emphatically.

"I'll be happier once we're off this fracking water-logged rock," Canderous growled as he picked up his prototype assault rifle and began a series of loving checks on it's operation. "Laws against violence? These Selkath are abominations of nature. Violence is what tempers and refines every species, not just the Mandalore."

"You should be a guest speaker at the Sith Embassy, then," Eva said lightly, "they believe much the same. Personally, I think our behaviour and loyalty in the face of adversity is what separates us from non-sentient beasts, but I suppose I could be wrong."

"The Sith have no concept of clan or honour," Canderous disagreed. "Violence without these things is meaningless."

"The Sith being bad-mouthed by a Mandalorian. Now I've heard everything. Guess them Sith must be 'specially bad," Carth ambled into the room and the conversation, his mouth curling sardonically.

"I think that none of us require further evidence of the Sith's many depravities," Bastila said, as she strolled in behind Carth. "We should all be on our highest alert here on Manaan. Trying to walk amongst Sith may be the most dangerous thing any of us will ever do."

"I'm disappointed in you, Princess," Canderous smirked at her. "I'm fairly certain that we'll be facing much tougher things than toothless Sith."

"Be warned, Mandalorian. The Sith harness the Dark Side of the Force, and have no scruples in using it in any way they can," Bastila scowled.

"I know. My old man used to talk fondly about the nights he enjoyed with a lush Sith Mistress during the old Sith War," Canderous shrugged.

"Ahem," Eva coughed. "We'd best be on our way, and our best behaviour. Don't sneer at me, Canderous."

Zaalbar took his place conspicuously behind the Jedi Padawan.

Bastila turned around, and raised an imperious eyebrow at him. "Are you to join us on our mission at this time, Zaalbar?"

Zaalbar huffed for a moment: an uncharacteristic show of emotion from the stalwart Wookiee. "I will not be left behind at any time from this time forward: you are a Jedi, and constantly getting into trouble. It would dishonour me if you were to be wounded without any effort on my part to prevent it."

A heated flush rose to Bastila's cheeks. "Does that mean that you will follow me about constantly until one of us dies?"

Zaalbar shrugged. "Until you die. Wookiees have much longer lifespans than you humans."

Bastila turned beseeching eyes towards her Jedi Master.

Eva smiled and looked innocent. _You'll have to bear with it for now, Bastila. Perhaps we can work out some solution when this war is resolved._

Needless to say, this did not result in any happy or even charitable thoughts from Bastila.

The team of five trooped down the _Ebon Hawk_'s ramp into one of Manaan's many hangars. Eva took a moment to walk over to the open side of the hangar to lean against the retaining wall, take in the lapping ocean, and to breathe in Manaan's bracing sea air: after the recycled air on the _Hawk_, the crisp wind was more than welcome. Less welcome was the sudden spray that shot into the air and rained down upon the assembled party. The collective mood took a downturn – most notably because wet-Wookiee was a much more unpleasant odour than dry-Wookiee.

Bastila pinched her brows together and rubbed at her temples. _This_ was what had sworn to follow her about for the rest of her days. Kind of like a portable air-freshener, in reverse.

Eva blinked a few droplets away from her eyelashes. "It's strange to think that somewhere down there is a Star Map." Scans from the Ebon Hawk had shown that the Star Map was most likely in a particular spot of sacred sea floor, not far from the floating city.

"I cannot fathom why the Builders would place a Star Map there," Bastila informed them. "Most sentients are air-breathers, so placing it leagues underwater does not make much sense. If the map itself held some sort of significance for the Selkath, surely we would have heard of it before now."

"It is possible Manaan was not always completely under the sea level," Eva shrugged. "Melting polar caps, a cataclysmic event – there are quite a few theories that could fit in that scenario."

"I suppose," Bastila agreed, "but it would have happened eons ago. The Selkath do not acknowledge such an event in their living history."

"There are few records in the galaxy that go back 20,000 years. Make that no records," Carth pointed out.

"Shall we get going soon? If I can't fight, I might as well eat," Canderous grumbled.

Turning around and leading her crew through the door to access the hallway outside, her mind buzzed pleasantly with interest as she wondered what situations lay ahead of her. As she heard raised voices directly to her left, she realised she was about to view one of them at once.

"You Sith are all evil!" A Republic soldier informed the sneering Sith in silver and black. It was an accurate enough statement, Eva decided, but highly lacking in imagination.

"You Republics are all cowards! You talk big, but you're trembling in fear because you know your doom is at hand!" Nope, no imagination there, either. Eva shook her head and plastered a huge smile on her face.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Eva greeted them cheerfully, ignoring Carth's incredulous snort.

"There most certainly is, ma'am," the Republic officer said respectfully, recognizing her Jedi robes as objects of reverence.

"Jedi," the Sith said scornfully.

"You're absolutely correct, Mr. Sith," Eva informed him unresentfully. "I am a Jedi. Well done."

If looks could kill, Eva had a feeling that she would indeed be well done, or even overcooked.

"These Sith bastards are given as many or more rights as us Republics!" the Republic soldier fumed, "and we aren't allowed to put them in line when they're begging for it!"

"You mean you're too afraid," the Sith jeered. "Perhaps if you had six or seven of your gutless buddies to back you up, you might even be able to look me in the eye without pissing yourself."

"Now, now, my good man," Eva soothed Mr. Republic, "just because most Sith are incapable of understanding the concept of honour doesn't mean you should descend to their level. Of course," Eva glanced briefly at the Sith, "you do come across the odd one that does. Perhaps they will lift their game out of the gutter one day."

"Whenever you want us to relieve you of your worthless existence, come by the enclave. We have many, many ways to fulfil your wish," Mr. Sith growled.

"That's very generous of you, sir," Eva said, smiling, "but please, don't hold your breath waiting for us to stop by. We're just a bit too busy to have a friendly chat with your superiors. Wow, look at the time. I really must check in or Manaan Security will wonder what has become of me. I'm sure you two have lots of things to do as well, so don't let me keep you."

The Sith muttered some incomprehensible curses before stalking off.

"Keep up the good work, and don't worry about what they say to you," Eva lectured Mr. Republic. "You're better than them, so show it and don't let them get to you."

"Yes, ma'am," Mr. Republic said obediently.

As they turned around and headed toward the other end of the long hallway – or at least the door at that end – Carth chuckled. "You are crazy, you know that? If that Sith had dragged you into a fight – even before you'd signed in to Immigration – you'd have been booted off this planet and our mission shot to hell."

Eva rolled her eyes. "It was a plain Sith soldier, Carth, not a Dark Jedi. I'm pretty sure I could have convinced him he wanted to breed fluffy pink bunnies if I had to."

Suddenly, they heard a muffled scream coming back from the hangar. Eva and Carth traded looks moments before they turned around and hurried back to the _Hawk_.

"I thought I told Mission to leave T3 _alone,_" Eva growled as she stormed up the loading ramp – and took a brief breather at the top.

"Eva! Carth! Come here, quick!" Mission's voice rang out, clearly stressed.

They found Mission in the cargo hold, holding down the hands of the small person on whom she was sitting. "I came here to grab a snack, and caught her stealing food. I don't know where she came from, or who she's with, but with you and Bastie on board, we need to have good security, right?"

"Absolutely," Bastila agreed.

Carth let out his breath in a whoosh and leaned against the side of the hold as Eva approached Mission and her prisoner, both completely ignoring Canderous, who, judging by his expression, was in a hell of a snit. The Mandalorian stomped through the doorway and strode to the food supplies, evidently unable to wait any longer for sustenance. As the shipboard lights revealed his typically Mandalorian physique, the small form being restrained under Mission let out an ear-piercing shriek, which swelled and gathered in intensity as almost everybody obeyed their instincts and unsheathed their assorted weapons.

As the horrible noise continued, Eva crouched by Mission, getting a hold of the tiny intruder herself and nodding to Mission to let go. The Twi'lek gladly got off and out of the way, nicking a protein bar out of Canderous' fingers and darting behind Zaalbar who stood woodenly in the passage outside.

Eva wrestled the small person – a child – upright and turned it around to face her. Large scared eyes, temporarily dwarfed by a large screaming mouth, clearly feminine features – it was a girl. Operating on instinct, a fairly common feat for a Jedi, Eva flung the edges of her voluminous robe around the child and held her close with one hand, stroking her with the other. The now muffled screaming stuttered and finally ceased, giving way to soft hiccups, as Eva held the child and determinedly focussed waves of peace towards her.

"Master," Bastila came over towards the two, speaking quietly, "we must find out who she is with. Comforting the child must wait while we secure safety for our mission."

"Have a heart, Bastila," Carth expostulated, "the kid's practically hysterical. I doubt you can get much useful information from her anyway."

"We must not be taken by surprise, Carth," Bastila insisted stubbornly.

"Quiet, Bastila," Eva said calmly. "I will see to this." She lifted her eyes briefly. "Canderous, you seemed to make her especially nervous. Perhaps you can think of something else to do on the ship while I see to this. Bastila, Zaalbar, please find Juhani. See what has happened to her. If nothing has, say nothing. I will see to that matter also. Carth, we're going to sit down by these containers. Please stay by the door – she may only be a child, but I want this contained here."

"Sounds like a plan," Carth agreed, and lent his gaze to silently command the rest to follow Eva's orders.

After they had gone, and Carth was sitting just inside the entry to the hold, Eva calmed Sasha using a mixture of calm, low words, gentle Force manipulation and gestures. She risked several times getting her fingers bitten off, but she decided philosophically that she couldn't really blame the child. At least, not until she knew the circumstances that brought Sasha on the _Ebon Hawk_.

When Sasha seemed calmed enough to sit on a random crate, she spoke a few words. Eva's brows drew together. "That's Mandalorian, but…"

"Ahh, Manlorey! Manlorey abds!" Sasha yelled, hopping off her crate and stepping away.

"Easy, there," Eva said, then repeated it in standard Mandalorian, which Sasha seemed to respond to. "It's Ordo's language, but mixed up," she clarified for Carth's benefit.

"Why would she be speaking that language?" Carth asked, puzzled.

Eva spoke softly in the strange language. Carth focussed on her lips as she enunciated the harsh consonants without thinking. He glanced at Sasha as the child began to reply hesitantly.

"She was a Mandalorian captive," Eva said finally. "They didn't treat her well. Generally, Mandalorians treat young captives with a certain amount of tolerance – sometimes they become close, almost like family. The fact that Sasha was hurt indicates it was a rogue band, outlaws, if you will. Perhaps deserters from the War."

"Where did she come from, do you know?" Carth queried gently, no doubt wondering just what Sasha had suffered through.

Eva consulted with Sasha. "I'm more than halfway sure she came from Dantooine. She fought and escaped her captors on a grassy planet with fat trees, then, after some travelling, she came upon a settlement. It seems she snuck into a building, in small places, as she puts it, and she found the _Hawk_ and decided to hide out here in the frame of the ship." She chuckled suddenly. "Now we can complain to Ordo that someone snuck past him on the _Ebon Hawk_ – and he didn't have a clue."

Carth grinned a moment before his expression darkened again. "But all that doesn't tell us what to do with her."

"As far as I know, there are no Jedi other than us on Manaan at this point of time," Eva mused. "Republic soldiers have no need to travel to Dantooine. I'll start contacting Dantooine immediately and see if we can find who she belongs to, and get them to come here and pick her up. Otherwise, we'll have to take her along with us. We simply can't take the time out of our mission to take her back ourselves."

"So I guess we'll be going out again in a half hour, or so?" Carth muttered resignedly.

Eva looked up and smiled apologetically. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Carth."

"It's not your fault," Carth dismissed, "I don't know how you'd even plan for stowaways. I'll just do some checking up on the _Hawk's_ systems – better safe than sorry, and if we're missing it, it can probably be bought here."

"Good idea," Eva nodded, brushing off her robes as she stumbled upright and told Sasha to stay put for the meanwhile. She had to contact the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine already and she wasn't looking forward to it.

**(&X&)**

Bastila strode down the lowered ramp of the _Ebon Hawk_ in a mild fit of temper. Would anything go right on this cursed mission? Hold ups and surprises around every bend, children popping up to lever responsibility square on the Jedi's shoulders, contrary team members snapping at each other with barely restrained hostility, and even the Jedi themselves were not completely trustworthy. Was it even reasonable to expect Bastila to trust a violent Padawan who flipped allegiances like a switch?

She simply had to be out of close confinement with the chaos, so she decided to pace around the hangar for a while. If the worst that could happen was getting doused with a little sea water, she would take it over losing her wits and her temper with the inmates of her current hyperspace jumping domicile.

Walking over to the retaining wall, she bent over it and sighed, her breath puffing against her fingers. "Force, grant me patience. Force, grant me wisdom. Force, grant me…"

"The cutest little ass in the galaxy. That's a check, babe."

Bastila whirled around, her mouth agape and her grey eyes wide. "Who…"

Swagger Vasa lit his death stick nonchalantly as he smirked. "Forgotten me already, Bastila? I'm disappointed. Was I that boring?"

Bastila froze, till she remembered that she needed to breathe. Her eyes reacquainted themselves with the notable features of one of the galaxy's most deadly bounty hunters. Buzz cut black hair, dark glinting eyes, an arsenal and a half distributed over an impeccably toned body dressed, of course, in black. All impressive descriptions, of course, but there was something, a spirit about Swagger that was enthralling, like the obsidian gaze of a snake as it stared at its prey, or the unparalleled grace of a predatory cat as it gave into the chase. You instinctively knew he was deadly and should be avoided, but you simply couldn't drag your gaze away.

"I guess you used them," Bastila began, stopped, and started. "The codes, I mean. You survived Taris."

"Yep," Swagger agreed economically. His eyes softened a touch. "I used Calo Nord's ship and left the surface before it went to hell. You saved my life, Bastila," he reached out and touched her on the shoulder, drawing her closer, to whisper in her ear, "I pay my debts."

"Oh, my," Bastila exhaled, as the hot current from Swagger's breath tickled her skin. She almost sighed as Swagger resumed their previous distance.

"I left Taris, but was surrounded by Sith flyers," Swagger said, resuming with a businesslike tone, "which I surrendered to, not ready to die without a good reason. Somehow that heap of shavit Calo survived and was on board. When we connected to Malak's flagship…"

Bastila's breath left her in an audible whoosh. "You… you were _aboard the _Leviathan_?_"

Swagger grinned at her and patted her shoulder. "I'm still here, babe. Takes more'n that to kill me."

"Of course," Bastila nodded, getting her hormones finally under control. "The Force has plans for you, I'm sure."

"The Force can leap off a Nar Shaddaa high rise, as far as I'm concerned," Swagger said derisively, before catching sight of Bastila's downcast face. "Oh, babe, I've no good experiences with your kind before. Don't take it personally."

Bastila tentatively smiled back. "Tell me what happened?"

Swagger turned to view the endless sprawl of ocean outside the hangar. "We were taken before Malak and Karath. Karath had the bright idea to send us 'famous bounty hunters' to kill you and your Master, and after that nerf-fracker Calo told them about Onasi, to get rid of him too."

Beside him, quiet for a moment, Bastila asked, "Then why are you telling me this?"

"Pay attention, Bastila," Swagger chided as he tucked a stray lock of gleaming brown hair behind her ear. "I owe you my life."

"You said, on Taris, that you didn't like Sith. Malak, I mean," Bastila recalled.

"Still don't," Swagger admitted. "Bastards make life too cheap. Not good economics for a bounty hunter, you know?"

Bastila surprised herself by giggling. "So, what are you offering, Swagger?"

Swagger's eyes darkened, impossibly, and he stepped back a pace from Bastila. "Firstly, I'm here to save your life. I know a few tricks, and I'm known for being flexible. After that… well, after that, we can see what happens."

Bastila sighed. "I'm a Jedi, Swagger."

Swagger chuckled shortly. "That ain't an _incurable_ disease, you know."

Bastila smiled secretly, even as she argued, "I'm an important Jedi. They need me to win this war. I have the gift of Battle Meditation."

"Would you like me to tell you about your other gifts, ones the Jedi didn't tell you about?" Swagger asked her softly, dangerously.

"Please do," a cold voice came from behind them.

Vasa turned around slowly to see an angry Onasi with fistfuls of blasters pointed unerringly at his chest.

"I've been told my brown eyes are my best feature," Carth continued frostily, his gaze unwaveringly on the bounty hunter, "but I've heard a lot about the width of my shoulders."

Almost lazily, Swagger leaned back against the wall and grinned slowly. "They were foolin' ya. It doesn't matter what you look like when you have a heart of gold. Do you have a heart of gold, Onasi?"

Bastila looked between the two men helplessly.

"How the f… hell did you get off Taris, bounty hunter?" Carth asked grimly.

"Same way you did. In a ship. Last I heard, it was the only way to travel," Swagger shrugged insolently.

"The Sith fleet was over Taris. If you're here, you're here with their good will," Carth pointed out. "Bastila, please step to the side. I know how fussy you can be over your clothes."

Outraged, Bastila stepped between the posturing males. "Carth, please! I have the situation under control."

"You bet you do, babe," Swagger murmured behind her, regretfully deciding not to cop a feel.

Carth's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he nodded to Bastila. "Explain."

Grateful for his trust, however conditional, Bastila rushed to do so. "I gave him a copy of the codes on Taris, so that was how he managed to get past the automated cannons. However, he was caught by the Sith fleet and agreed under duress to accept a bounty on us – you, Eva, and I. Nonetheless, Swagger has _honour_ and since he takes the view that I saved his life first by providing the codes, he is going to work with us against the Sith, at least for a time, and this will give us an extra edge. Which, you must admit, we most certainly need."

"And you trust him? He's telling the truth?" Carth questioned, "what does your Force tell you? I trust you to know, Bastila."

Bastila hesitated. Her emotions were in a strange, sweet turmoil, but she was a Jedi. She centred herself and separated herself from sentiment, before looking up and into Carth's eyes unblinkingly. "I trust him. He's telling the truth."

For a long moment, Carth considered. Then in a quick, fluid movement, he holstered his blasters and sighed. "Damn. This is shaping up to being one hell of a troop."

"Think of it this way, Onasi: your killing capability just doubled," Swagger offered satirically.

"You have accomplices in this bounty? Any information would be useful," Carth admitted.

"Calo Nord survived, like the cockroach he is. He's working separately, but he's just waiting till he can get you out of reach of Manaan's cameras. Best guess, he'll be waiting for you by your Star Map," Swagger suggested.

Both Carth and Bastila took a double-take. "You know about the Star Maps?" Bastila asked incredulously.

"Of course," Swagger shrugged. "Once you headed here, Malak decided he knew what you were after. Smart bastard. It's by the kolto reef, near an illegal kolto mining facility built by the Republic. The local Sith have been trying for weeks to get conclusive proof of the site so they can get the Republic booted off Manaan, but so far, no luck. Of course, that's about to change."

"What do you mean?" Carth demanded.

"From what those idiots in the Sith base are talking about, I take it that they've stolen a Republic sea probe – and guess what it has on it? They don't know yet, but they will. They're trying to crack the code on it as we speak. Better tell your bosses to stock up on kolto, Commander, 'cause your supply is about to get really pissed at you."

"Frack," Carth mouthed softly. He paced a few steps in one direction, before turning abruptly and pinning his gaze on Vasa. "I need to talk about this with Revan. Can I trust you with Bastila for an hour or so?"

Swagger's face creased in a cruel smile. "Onasi, Bastila's the only one here who I won't kill. She's safer with me than you are."

Carth huffed out a breath before adding in a quiet voice. "Vasa, she's eighteen. She needs to be protected."

"Not from me," Vasa answered, with a certain promise in his voice.

Nodding once, Carth turned and headed swiftly up the ramp to find Eva.

**Author's Notes and Explanations: Well, was this a nice surprise or have you forgotten all about this story? In any case, I'm pretty pleased with this chapter. In the times I **_**didn't**_** write, I seem to have matured some ideas. The bare bones of the whole Manaan adventure are safely stored away in my head, ready to be typed up. **

**I did the Sasha thing – not really sure why, but, eh, it's almost completely done. My favourite part, naturally, is the interaction between Swagger Vasa (an OC belonging in entirety to Jen DeClan) and Bastila. I hope I got his characterization right – I think he might be a bit too charming, but then, that's never a bad thing, is it? And yes – this is slightly different again from the game, but it won't really affect the situations all that much. Or will it? You'll have to wait and see… hopefully not too long. I'll try. For you. If you review. :)**


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